Legacy
by PteraWaters
Summary: Spike, driven by odd visions, leads Angel, Fred, and Xander to a small New England town. Can they solve the mystery brewing there before more women die? Post-'When the last one falls', AU "Season 6". Angel/Spike, Fred/Xander friendship.
1. Troubling Visions

Previously on The Vampire/Slayer Archives:

_Through visions, the Powers that Be helped Spike and Angel save Fred's life from Illyria, only to lose Wesley in the process. Distraught over the loss of his friend, Angel turned to Spike for comfort and companionship. Soon, they discovered that while Illyria's essence had been entombed in the Deeper Well, her knowledge and personality remained imprinted on Fred's brain. Gunn atoned for his part in Wesley's death, while Angel and Spike tried to find out everything they could about the impending Apocalypse. And when it came to Buffy, found they shared a lot more in common than seemed prudent. _

_With help from the Powers that Be, Buffy's forces, and a memory-repaired Connor, Angel, Spike, Gunn, Lorne, and Illyria-enhanced Fred managed to construct the downfall of Wolfram and Hart and deal a major blow against the senior partners. In the mayhem, a badly injured Gunn disappeared and Lorne made his escape to Vegas. _

_Upon returning to Scotland's Slayer Central with Buffy, Angel, Spike, and Fred took up residence there, Fred still mourning the death of Wesley, while Angel and Spike cultivated their relationship, and tried to understand their feelings for Buffy. _

_New slayers arrived at Slayer Central every day, divined by a coven of witches and retrieved by Faith. However, these slayers began to be attacked before Faith could reach them, culminating in a disastrous mission in Russia. Slayer trainee Rita Nguyen discovered the mole allowing these attacks - her classmate and former best friend, Aubrey Truman. The identity of Aubrey's employer remains unknown, for now._

* * *

The Vampire/Slayer Archives Episode 2 – Legacy

Chapter 1 - Troubling Visions

"C'mon, Peaches," Spike whined, sitting in the chair across the desk from me, his boots stubbornly up on the furniture. "When are you gonna be done?"

"I'm done when I'm done," I told him, sorting through the tasks I had yet to complete, wondering if there was enough money in the budget to hire an assistant. Sometimes, I missed having Harmony around, even if she was awful at her job, at least it was someone to help. "If you can't go at least six hours without sex, there's something seriously wrong with you."

"Just because I _can_ go without doesn't mean I _want_ to, you pillock."

After a quick knock on the door, Fred poked her head into the office. "Can I come in?"

Sighing, I said, "Yeah, sure. Why not? It's not like I'm trying to finish a million things here."

"Good," she nodded, stepping into the room. "I've got the estimates for the equipment I need to finish setting up the lab."

"Great," I replied, pointing to a stack of papers. "Just put it there."

"Somebody's a Grumpy Gus today," she smiled up at Spike.

"Fred," I said sharply, "do you know anyone who could help with all this … fucking paperwork?"

"Spike can't help you?" Fred replied with a wicked grin.

Eyes widening and skin paling as much as it could on a vampire, my boyfriend stood up and backed away. "Oh, no. Don't think you're roping me into this, you two."

"Why not?" I asked, smiling for the first time practically all day. "Instead of making this go slower by bugging me, you can help and have me all to yourself sooner."

"Yeah," Fred agreed, smiling at him sweetly. "You helped out at Wolfram and Hart those last few weeks."

"Okay, like I was telling Peaches," Spike said, retreating to the door. "Just because I _can_ do something, doesn't mean I _want_ to." Making his hasty escape, he called back, "Ta, pets."

Laughing, Fred turned back to me. "So, you want an assistant?"

"Yes," I agreed. "This is just too much for one person to deal with. And, I may be dead, but I still need sleep on occasion."

"You should appropriate one of the slayers. There's only, like a million of them," she said, rolling her eyes. "Heck, I've got myself a whole posse of them."

"But you're a _teacher_," I pointed out. "You've got a better way of finding them. What am I going to do, put out an ad in the paper? I need someone we can really _trust_. Especially after what happened with that one girl."

"Who? Aubrey Truman?" Fred asked me, and I nodded. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"Dawn's already working for Buffy, Connor went back to school, and everyone else already has a job."

"I'll keep an eye out," she told me, starting to stand, and then sitting back down again. "So, how are you, Angel?"

"Besides busy?" I asked her with a pointed look. "Fine."

"And you and Spike?"

Fighting the smile that crept onto my face at mention of him, I said, "Better than fine."

Fred smiled back at me brightly, before she said, "I can't believe it took me so long to figure it out. I still don't know why Illyria didn't tell me about you two."

"I don't know," I replied with a small chuckle. "She had a great time telling everyone else."

"I think it was a test, you know? To see how much she can keep from me if she really wants."

Fred's tone took on a quality I didn't recognize, and growing concerned, I asked, "Do you think she's planning something?"

"I don't think so," she sighed, nodding at my worry. "But I don't really know for sure. It's odd being up in here and not being alone."

"Yeah," I nodded. "I suppose it can't be too different from still having Angelus in here," I tapped my own temple.

"Huh," Fred breathed, tilting her head to look at me. "Yeah, I guess not." With a final nod, she stood up and said, "Well, I should probably get back to work."

"Yeah," I nodded. "Me too."

* * *

As I escaped Angel's office and wandered around the castle, I realized that with Connor back in California and Angel and Fred ganged up against me at the moment, I didn't really have any friends here. I had Buffy and that was about it. Sure, Red liked me okay, but I don't know if I'd call us friends. And Andrew ... Well, let's just say that coming back into Scoobyland with a boyfriend did nothing to sour his affections for me. And it was bloody _annoying_. Just 'cause I like shaggin' certain blokes, Angel for instance, doesn't mean I like them all, yeah? Especially not annoying little blighters who don't know when to leave a man alone.

So, who to go bother? Faith was gone again; Buffy had told me in no uncertain terms that she was insanely busy that day. I hadn't really befriended any of the other slayers. So who? Ah, the whelp! Yeah, that would do. Smiling, I strutted down the hall and into the command room.

"Oi! Blackbeard!"

"What, Spike?" Xander sighed in reply, turning around to face me. He just loves standing up there on his platform, surrounded by monitors and self-importance.

"What's the do?"

"Huh?"

Chuckling at how stupid he looked when confused, I said, very slowly like I was speaking to a child, "What is happening? Here in Watcher land?"

"Nothing much, really," he replied with a shake of his head, pointing to the map to one side of the room. "All's clear on the Western front. And the Eastern front. South-by-southeast had a little issue, but we got that cleared up in a jiffy."

"Right," I nodded. "So nothing needs killing?"

"Not right now, no."

"Bollocks." Shaking my head, I leaned back against a desk and just sat there, looking up at him. I wondered how long it would take before a constant disdainful stare got to the boy, and almost broke my heavy-eye-lidded, sneering-mouth, posturing with a smile.

"Is that all, Spike?" he asked me, clearly more upset and frustrated the longer I stayed silent. Xander got more and more insecure, finally just jumping down from his platform and asking, "What?"

I was about to laugh and tell him what an idiot he was, but suddenly I couldn't see. Or, I guess I could, but it was quite dark, and I heard panting and moaning. What the bloody hell was this, then? As I blinked a couple times, a slight pain blossomed between and behind my eyes as the room came back into living color.

"Please tell me you're having some sort of vampire stroke," Xander said, waving his hand in front of my face. "Maybe then, you'll leave me alone for long enough that I can finally remember what it feels like to be blissfully Spike-free again."

"I..." Shaking my head to clear it, I wondered how things had gone wrong. Bloody brain rebelling on me. With a huff and because I didn't know what else to do, I sneered at Xander and left the room, heading back toward the suite I shared with Angel. Maybe I just needed a lie down. That sounded nice.

However, halfway up the big staircase, my vision went dark again, and I had to sit down before I fell down. This time, a child's wail filled my ears, and I saw light at the edges of my vision, orange like from a fire, and I smelled smoke.

When I came out of this one, a slayer named Diane crouched in front of me, shaking me with one hand on my wrist.

"Spike?" she asked in her Scandinavian accent. Damn my heart for loving Angel and Buffy. This slayer was a knock out. "Would you like me to go get Dr. Jerry? Or Angel?"

"No, no," I insisted, grabbing onto the railing and hauling myself up. But then I got there, standing, and my eyes went dark again. This time, it was a woman, moaning in pain, and it made me clench my stomach in sympathy, sinking to the ground again. "Yeah, okay luv," I agreed. "Go get Angel, yeah?"

"I will be back quickly."

While she was gone, my sight of the real world, of the castle, came and went, flickering in exchange with this odd series of visions. A carpet, scratchy against my cheek; hands ghosting over my skin; the snip of a scissors over and over again; crisp fall air, sun on my face; more pain; more screams; stabbing flesh, the hot blood spraying out; the beep-beep of hospital machines; very small shoes.

Eventually, when the real world came back for more than a split second at a time, I found myself in Angel's arms, the git carrying me like I were a small child. "What?" I asked him, trying to shift and struggle away so he would put me down, but the ponce just squeezed me tighter.

"Settle down, hon," he murmured softly, his voice rumbling a little in his chest so I felt it through my side. "I'm taking you up to bed."

"Well, finally," I nodded with a sigh, giving up and letting him carry me.

Chuckling a little, Angel said, "What's wrong? Did you have a vision?"

"Whole mess of 'em," I told my lover as the world flashed bright and then dark again. "And here comes another."

"But you're not hurting," he pointed out, opening the door to our rooms and then kicking it shut behind him.

"Oh, I am," I insisted, trying to remember I was in Angel's arms, and not riding a merry-go-round in a bright and sunny park. "It's just not as severe as usual, luv."

"What's going on?" Angel asked as he laid me down on the bed, the mattress sinking slightly under my weight.

"The visions keep..." I sighed, trying to make sense of this latest one, which felt an awful lot like getting fucked. Opening my eyes again, I told Angel, "They keep coming and going, yeah?"

"Can you tell what we need to do?"

Shaking my head and forcing my eyes to focus on Angel's face in the dark room, I said, "It just seems random."

"Does it feel urgent?"

Thinking again, I answered, "No, it really doesn't. I have no clue what this is, pet. Maybe I'm just goin' crazy."

"Too much sex lately?" Angel suggested, unlacing my boots and pulling them off.

"No such thing," I insisted in reply.

"I think you should try to get some sleep, _cor_," Angel told me, running a hand under the lapel of my jacket and lifting my shoulder so he could get my arm out of the sleeve, subjecting my other arm to the same treatment shortly.

"Stay?" I asked, knowing I'd get restless without him there.

"Sure," he nodded as my vision went dark again, flashing to a broom sweeping across a floor and a cloying, dusty taste in my mouth.

When I came to again, I was naked under the covers, with a still-clothed Angel curled around me possessively. "Mmm," I murmured, brushing my backside against his front in a way that made Angel chuckle into my ear. But then I slipped away into another vision and watched stones splash into a calm lake, plopping as they broke the surface of the water.

"Bloody hell," I whispered as I clawed my way out of that one. "How long do I stay away?"

"Few minutes at a time," Angel replied, mumbling sleepily behind me.

"Exhausted, luv?"

My partner nodded, brushing my shoulder with his forehead so I could feel the action without looking at him.

"If something else happens," I told him, clasping his arms tighter around my ribs, "I'll wake you, Ange."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," I whispered, fading away again. Velvet under my fingers. The smell of oranges. Bright sun. A junebug buzzing against a screen door. Paper rustling. A pinprick in my arm.

As I came out of it, I whispered, "Bloody hell," and knew by his breathing that Angel was asleep behind me. How much time had I lost? I couldn't even tell if the visions were getting longer or shorter. Further spaced or closer together. Sometimes, they even felt like being back in my own skin, but it wasn't true.

* * *

Hours and thousands of images later, I felt a pulling in my gut. Something drawing me gently away from my bed. Something crying out for me, softly. Was this another vision, or was this real? It was sodding difficult to tell the difference. But the tugging, as gentle as it was, wouldn't let me sit any longer. It wouldn't let me sleep. It kept just pulling and pulling and driving me fucking mental.

"Angel," I growled, pushing at him to wake him up.

"Mmm, not now," he replied, rolling away from me, obviously still mostly asleep.

"C'mon, luv," I insisted. "Wake up."

Angel batted my hand away, "Damn it, Spike!"

"It's the visions, Peaches. Quit bein' a prat and wake up."

"What?" he mumbled sleepily, actually opening his eyes and turning to look at me. "Oh, the visions." He sat up with a sheepish look and confessed, "I thought you wanted sex."

Chuckling a little as I got up, trying to find clothes, I replied, "Not an unusual occurrence. Can't blame you for assuming."

"So, we're going somewhere?" He got out of bed, ruffling his hair and yawning.

"Not sure where," I told him, pulling on a pair of pants. "But it's not here."

"Right," Angel nodded, shucking off his shirt and digging through a drawer for a new one. "When was your last vision?"

Looking up as I thought, going to the closet for something half-way decent, I said, "A few minutes ago I think. Ten maybe."

When I pulled out one shirt, Angel took it from my hands gently and grabbed a different one, handing it to me. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked in my ear, kissing my neck.

"I couldn't tell," I said, turning around to hold him close. "But the Powers say somethin's up, I guess we gotta answer."

"Mm-hmm," he agreed, arms around my shoulders. "Though if this is really gonna keep happening, I need to hire that assistant, and soon."

Another vision threatened, so I tightened my hold around Angel's ribs saying, "Hang on, luv." And then, the vision consumed me, again random images and impressions flitting through my brain. This one hurt, though. Hurt like I'd come to expect most visions to hurt. Hurt like my eyes were being forced out of their sockets from the inside and at the same time an elephant was stepping on my head. "God, Ange," I managed to say. "This is … we've gotta go. Head west," I guessed, knowing as soon as I said it that I was right. "Bloody fucking hell!"

"Alright," Angel said, soothingly, sitting me down on the bed and putting the shirt he'd picked out, something dark green, on me, doing the buttons all the way up to the top, even though he knew I hated that. "We'll go. How far west do you think, Will?"

Shaking my head and closing my eyes, trying to get a sense of it, I told him, "Far," before meeting his eyes and noting the love and concern on his face as he nodded, kissing me once, quickly.

When he got up to finish dressing, I undid the top two buttons of my shirt and started looking around for my boots. "Oi, Ange!" I called, only to see him on the phone when I looked up. Stupid, fat ponce, leaving me to fend for myself while he called God knows who for God knows what. Bastard.

Eventually I did find my boots, outside the bedroom door of all places, lined up perfectly together. Of course. I sat down on the couch to pull them on and lace them, praying that I wouldn't get another vision.

Eventually, Angel, dressed and hair combed, fell down next to me, an arm around my shoulders. "I've got the plane set to go. And Fred will come with us."

"Not Buffy?" I asked, wincing at the look Angel gave me. We'd been spending time with her, together and separately, but Angel was still a little twitchy about it.

"No," he said roughly. "Buffy's got a big meeting with some witches Willow knows. They're going to reinforce the wards around the castle. And she says it might actually be better if we were out of the way for a while."

"Doesn't need the good guys knowing she's harboring demons, eh?"

"Not exactly," he replied, standing and pulling me to my feet with one hand. In the other, he took up a large duffle bag, probably luggage for the both of us.

Making sure I still had my mobile, I let Angel lead me away from our suite. Off on another mission. And I really hoped the Powers that Be weren't sending me back to LA. That was a place I could do without seeing again, thanks ever so.

We met Fred, Xander and Buffy at the front doors, though the rest of the castle was still quiet, what with it being the middle of the night. "We're all set," Angel told them, still holding onto my hand, like he was afraid I would drop any second. I don't know, maybe I looked it.

"Guys," Buffy said, giving me a soft look. "Xander's going with you."

"No," I sneered, giving the boy a harsh glare.

"Yes," Buffy insisted, giving me a glare of her own. "I can't go with you guys, and I don't trust anyone else to go."

"But doesn't he have to Watch things here?" Angel complained, and I squeezed his hand in thanks that he hated the soddin' pirate almost as much as I did.

"Dawn and Andrew are stepping in," Xander told him, hefting his bag and stepping up to us. "So you might as well accept help where you can get it."

"We don't –" Angel started, but Fred interrupted her.

"Alright, you're in."

"What?" I cried, thinking heavily at Fred, '_Traitor_.'

Turning to Angel and me with a low voice, Fred whispered, "You boys need my help, I can feel it. But if you think I'm goin' on a road trip as the third wheel with _you two_?" She put an emphasis on those words, letting us know she knew exactly how Angel and I spent most of our time together. "You're sorely mistaken."

Angel sighed and agreed sheepishly, "She makes a good point."

Frowning at him and vowing that my partner would be in serious trouble later, I said, "Fine. The whelp can come."

"Great!" Xander said with a big smile, bouncing over to join us. "This is gonna be fun."

Shaking my head in disagreement, I let loose Angel's hand and went to Buffy, hugging her goodbye. "Ta, pet," I whispered, kissing her cheek.

"Bye," she said with a smile as Angel approached us, giving Buffy his own hug. "Keep each other out of trouble, okay?"

"I promise," Angel, the big poof, whispered, kissing her cheek as I had. Then, he took my hand and led me away from her, looking back to make sure Fred and Xander followed us. And I couldn't even tell them where we were going, besides west. Fuck.

_

* * *

A/N: If you're interested, this is an episode in my Spike/Angel series, which began as a rewrite of Season Five of Angel with a fic called A Different Hole in the World. This fic - Legacy - is the second episode of the Vampire/Slayer Archives, after "Living up to Expectations". This episode will be more indicative than the first of the many episodes yet to come in the series. I do hope you'll take the time to read them all!_

_Please, leave a review or comment if you feel so inclined. I love reading them._


	2. Cleveland

Legacy Chapter 2 - Cleveland

The visions kept coming and going, but they came less and less often as we drove to the airport and boarded our plane. Or at least I thought so. It was bloody difficult to tell, really.

"We're going to the office in Cleveland first," Angel told me, speaking softly in my ear as we took our seats. Wisely, Fred and Xander gave us our space and sat closer to the back of the aircraft, facing each other, I saw. Giving each other little smiles. Bloody hell, what was going on there?

"Yeah, alright, luv," I replied, trying to mind my own business as I sat back and kicked off my boots. "Just let me know when we get there."

Ruining my plans at trying to nap right on through Angel asked, "You have no idea what the visions mean?"

"None whatsoever," I grumbled. "It's all just a jumbled mish mash, yeah? No monsters that I can recognize. Just ... life." I sighed and gave Angel my hand so he could hold it before closing my eyes again, exhausted.

I dreamt the visions, I think. In any case my dreams were different from the usual. No dreams about blood and violence. No sex dreams about Angel or anyone else. No narrative dreams where the plot changed direction every minute or so, and my dream-self didn't even notice. Just random blips of vision all strung together like they were supposed to make some sort of sense, and that tugging sensation in my gut.

"Spike," Angel said, shaking me, "wake up."

"Huh?" I replied, blinking my eyes open dumbly to see my boyfriend crouched on the floor in front of me, looking up with one hand on my arm. Bloody hell, that position gave me ideas. I quirked one eyebrow at him in suggestion, but Angel only shook his head, standing and offering me a hand up.

"We're here, hon," Angel told me as I let him pull me to my feet against him.

"Cleveland?"

"Yep. C'mon. Fred and Xander are waiting for us outside."

"I still can't believe," I muttered, following Angel from the plane, "that Buffy made us bring him along."

"Yeah," Angel nodded. "But I guess we don't have Gunn or Wesley anymore. We could use the help."

"Well, aye, help is all well and good, pet. But the whelp?"

"Would you rather she'd've sent Andrew with us?"

Giving Angel a betrayed look that he laughed at, I growled, "Prat."

My boyfriend just smiled, leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Moron."

Recognizing how some of our most tender moments together started with traded insults, I smiled at Angel, taking his hand as we reached the bottom of the stairway leading down from the plane. The air felt humid and surprisingly warm, for it being September and all, and though it was still nighttime, I could feel dawn coming fairly quickly. Instinct gave my skin a crawling itch and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand, prodding me to find shelter, and soon.

I was about to ask Angel his plans for getting us inside before dawn, when a set of headlights approached us on the tarmac. A van, emblazoned with the Summeridge logo screeched up to us, and a dark-skinned slayer hopped out.

"Can't believe you guys call me down here in the middle of the night!"

Xander smiled nervously and chuckled, "Hi, Rona. Nice to see you too!"

"Xan, I thought we got rid of this vamp," she pointed at me with a tiny flick of her eye that might have been a wink, "back at the hellmouth. Shit!"

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, playing into the slayer's complaint. "Spike's still walkin' and talkin'. Get over it."

"A'ight," she said with a grin; sticking out her hand and shaking mine. "Glad to see you back, Not-so-evil Undead."

"Sure," I nodded. "Love to talk more, pet, but the sun approaches, so..." I gestured toward the van.

"Yeah, sure," Rona grinned, leading us toward the vehicle. "Hop in and we'll get you back to HQ un-crispy."

Xander and Angel stowed the luggage, while I took the seat behind Rona and Fred took the back. In a moment, Xander joined her and Angel got in last, slipping up beside me with a sigh.

As Rona plopped into the driver's seat, she pointed to her passenger, a young girl with curly hair and medium-brown skin. "This is Kitty. She's m' backup." Without waiting for the thought to settle, Rona put the van into drive and tore off toward the gate. With a swear under his breath, Angel grabbed my hand and squeezed, like he was in pain over what this girl was doing to the car. I supposed he'd probably paid for the thing, and was counting every penny it would take to replace the van when Rona drove it into the ground sooner rather than later. He's such a fucking cheapskate.

"Ever so pleased to meet," I nodded at the younger Slayer. "Name's Spike, this here's Angel and Fred's back there. D'you know Xander?"

"Only over the com unit," the girl replied, her voice high and breathy. "Hi, Xander."

"Kit Kat!" Xander cried. "Nice to finally put a face with the voice."

"Likewise."

* * *

We, or rather Angel, the big-headed wanker, decided not to spend too much time in Cleveland, just the day, really. Maybe he could tell that I was itching to get moving again. It was scary how well he'd been able to read me lately, as Angel had no clue what was going through anyone else's head. Ever. Probably had something to do with the sodding blood bond he and I'd been forging since that first night together at Wolfram and Hart almost six months ago. But I was a man who liked a little mystery in the relationship, you know? Though I suppose what Angel and I had was good enough to make up for the lack of privacy. Definitely good enough.

The Cleveland HQ was a small apartment building, with a few offices on the first floor, and a garage underneath, which I'm sure had been Angel's idea. Of the several outposts we had besides main Slayer Central, this one was the most important. And this is where most of the girls who left Scotland ended up. Living and working in this building, protecting the Hellmouth. Going to school even, according to Kitty, who looked up to Xander with these big puppy-dog eyes every chance she could get.

We got shuffled into a guest apartment by one of Rona's lieutenants, where Fred set about closing all the curtains before Angel and I left the relatively safe hallway.

"So," she said when she was finished and we were all standing around the miniature kitchen, Xander rummaging through the icebox and the cupboards, "where do we go from here?"

"Not sure, luv," I replied tiredly, waving my hand in a direction. "Maybe that way..."

"Or maybe," Xander said, munching on something as he stood up, "it's nothing and we'll get to go back home soon."

"Oh, it's something," I replied, putting an air of finality in my voice that I certainly didn't feel.

"So," Angel said, stepping up and playing the leader as he loves to do, the git, "we'll get some real sleep here, and then take one of the cars and drive until we get there."

"Great idea, Ange," I scoffed, "but I still have no idea where '_there'_ might be."

Approaching me gently, Angel put a hand on each of my shoulders and said, "Close your eyes, sunshine."

I heard Xander gag in the background, but I followed Angel's direction, because why the bloody hell not? Most of the things he asks me to do, especially with my eyes closed, end up quite satisfyingly pleasant.

"Now," he said, guiding me with his hands so I would turn all the way around in place, "which way do you want to go?"

I found it odd that he'd phrase it that way. Normally he's all about the mission, and about his part in saving the bloody fucking world, with very little concern for what I might rather be doing. But where did _I_ _want_ to go? Even when Angel let go of my shoulders and stood back, I knew where he was, where his scent was strongest, where his feet shifted on the linoleum of the floor, where the not-quite alive pulsing of his blood, of our blood, called to me.

Trying to put thoughts of Angel aside, I concentrated on that pulling sensation in my gut, pounding through the not-so-warm but still squishy viscera. And that sense, that fucking imperative to move forward, to lead Angel to where he was needed, gave me a clear direction. But, because I like turning everyone round on their heads, I started to shuffle around the room, leaning this way and that, like I was trying to figure out where the sodding signal came from. Oh, and I made a grand show of it, too. Running into shite, knocking things over, and making my way toward Angel, who kept shying away, trying to give me my space. Eventually I managed to catch the tosser, kissing him roughly before opening my eyes and shooting him a grin.

"Spike," he said, with a warning in his voice, but a smile on his lips. "Where are we heading?"

"That-a-way," I replied, pointing without having to look. The directions were ingrained into every bloody inch of my brain, my skull – hell, in my arms and legs and everything else in between. In response, Angel just shook his head and gave an exasperated scoff before extracting himself from my arms. At least, as I turned to look at the others, Fred grinned at me. Lovely bint, her. Seems to get me better than most; always has. The whelp, though, he was looking at me like he'd never seen a bigger idiot. _Well, go look in a mirror_, I almost said, but I thought if we might need to be crammed together on this psycho road trip, I'd better rein in the urge to mess with him, and pay him back for every insult he'd ever thrown my way. And besides, since losing that eye of his, the boy's actually become somewhat decent. Not that I'd ever _tell_ anyone that.

After leaving my side, Angel poked his head through all the doors before coming back and picking up our duffel, saying, "We leave at sundown." Then, he beckoned for me and fuck if I didn't hop to it right away. Bloody sires.

"Keep it down," Xander called after us as Angel pulled me into a bedroom, complete with a mattress for two and shut the door behind us.

"Anxious, luv?" I asked him with a smile, realizing suddenly that I hadn't been having visions for quite some time now. Thank God!

"Mmm," he murmured in agreement, dropping the bag and pulling me toward the bed. "Unless you're too exhausted."

"Have you ever," I asked him, dropping my coat to the ground as we walked, "known me to be too tired for a good shag?"

"You've never admitted it," he smiled, sitting down on the bed and pulling me in close. "But there was the time you fought that snake demon –_ by yourself_ – and later fell asleep halfway through sex. I still haven't forgiven you for that," he insisted, though I knew he had by the grin he tried to hide.

"I still contend it was boredom, Ange, and not exhaustion."

"Oh, _thanks_," he complained, rolling his eyes before toeing off his shoes and lying back on the bed.

"What'd you have in mind?" I asked Angel with a little smile, pulling off my boots and crawling over him.

"Maybe I'm not so boring, huh?" he replied, looking up at me with an expression I couldn't quite place, which was odd, since I'm quite familiar with the five or six expressions he's actually capable of. Was this one mischief, maybe?

Chuckling at him, I said, "Oh, you are. But I put up with you anyway, don't I, luv?"

With a growl, Angel flipped us over and bit my neck harshly before I knew what was happening. Mischief, indeed.

"Bloody hell!" I cried, gasping in pain and not even bothering to hide the husky desire in my voice. He sucked on the wound, pulling my blood into him in great slurping swallows with his sharp fangs still buried deep, until the room started swimming around me and the bed rocked under me and I choked out, "Gonna give some of that back, Peaches?"

"I don't know," he mumbled into my skin, closing the wound with his tongue before sitting back. "I kinda like you all loose and compliant." To prove his point, Angel picked up one of my arms and let it drop on the bed, bonelessly.

"No you don't," I scoffed up at him, wondering when he'd acquired those extra two heads. Blood loss wasn't normally this bad for me, though this time it did feel a little fun. Like being on a sodding rollercoaster. "You love that I'm just as strong as you, prat." Well, normally anyways. When I hadn't been drained half-dry by the greedy fucking leech. Struggling against gravity, I managed to sit up and put one arm around Angel's waist, watching his eyes as I angled toward his neck, and shivering at the dark desire I found there.

"You wish," he replied softly, just before I kissed the skin of his neck, sucking gently and making him groan low in his throat before I sank my fangs into flesh. As his cold blood pooled over my tongue, I moaned at the brilliant taste, a mixture of human and demon, all sorts of flavors, sweet, bitter, salty, spicy. And something stronger, something Angel says is because of the demon and the soul sharing a body, something that felt dark, smooth and chocolaty and completely enthralling. And I swear, as I swallowed again and again, all of that blood went straight to my groin. Don't know what it is, but Angel's blood never fails to incite in me lust of the grandest scale.

Urgency almost overwhelming, I pushed at Angel's clothes as I left off on drinking him, needing my boyfriend to be naked, right now. "God, luv," I told him, "do whatever boring things you want, just do them _soon_."

Angel chuckled at me and stripped, allowing me to do the same before plowing me down into the bed, his heavy frame covering me completely as he ground his hips into mine. "I can think of a few things that might bore you to tears, precious," he whispered, nipping at my neck and ear with his lips.

"Won't be _me_ cryin' after this," I told him, catching his lips with mine and twisting my hips to brush my prick against his. Even caught underneath him, I could feel Angel shudder at the contact, at once familiar and shocking, and murmur into my mouth. Tongues brushed, again and again. Same with privates, both of us thrusting against the other with just enough force, just enough friction.

And then, just as I was getting warmed up, images flashed across the backs of my eyelids. A vase of colored daisies; polished stone; knees lined up along a pew; blood seeping down the drain in a tiled floor.

"Will?" I heard Angel ask in my ear, but I couldn't summon up the faculties to respond. "Spike?" I think Angel might have shook me, but all I saw was a melting scoop of ice cream on a sidewalk and then a slamming car door. A fly buzzing in the corner of a bright room. Pages of a magazine flipping in thin wrinkled hands.

"Fu-uck," Angel's voice slipped around the visions, equally worried and annoyed.

"Ugh," I grunted as I blinked and came to, "ever so sorry, luv." Angel was still on top of me, meeting my eyes with his, that caveman brow of his wrinkled up in worry.

"I shouldn't have..." he began in his best brooding tone, trying to be the big hero by denying what he wanted, like he always did. But I was having none of it.

"Ange, don't try that with me," I growled, grabbing his arse so he couldn't get away. "And, luv? Want you so much, it hurts."

"What do you want me to do?" he asked in frustration. "You keep having these damn visions."

"Just," I wriggled under him, "let's finish quick, yeah? 'fore my brain wanders off again."

"Sure," he agreed, kissing me again roughly. When he made to shift off of me, I growled at Angel and held him closer, until he said, "Here," taking my hands from his backside before standing and rummaging through the bag. When he returned, Angel had a bottle of slick in his hand and predatory, smoldering look in his eyes that made me shiver. Ponce just loves making me shiver.

Angel lay down on his side, next to me, pulling me up next to him so our hips, cocks, and chests were all touching, kissing me as he grabbed the back of my neck in one big hand, squeezing in that way that never fails to get to me, before running that hand up into my hair, messing it up as our mouths and tongues mashed together. Then, with my eyes still closed and my senses full of Angel, I heard him pop open the bottle with his other hand. Anticipating what usually came next, I slid my upper leg over Angel's hip, exposing my arse for him. And God, if that didn't sound perfectly lovely right now.

But, Angel made a discouraging sound and pushed my leg away before quickly ordering, "Give me your hand, _cor_." With a little shrug and another kiss, I complied, begging the Powers silently to leave me the fuck alone until Angel was done with me. Without another word, my lover squirted some of the lube into my hand, and then guided me toward his cock, still pressed stubbornly against mine. "Oh, fuck, Will," he whispered as I touched him, his hands shaking as he put some more slick into one of them, fitting his arm below us so he could stroke me.

"Ugh," I groaned as Angel wrapped most of his hand around my prick, but then hooked a thumb around his, squeezing us together. Burying my head in his shoulder and almost crushed to rubble already under his touch, I told Angel in a whisper, "Oh, yes please, Ange. Bloody fantastic, you magnificent ponce." I tried to keep my end, to stroke Angel in time with his movements on both of us, but I'm afraid my efforts were erratic at best. Sodding exhaustion.

As such, he brought me around quickly, and I could feel through our blood bond how much he wanted this for me, how bloody giving he was, and how fucking far behind me the pillock was. I was half tempted to just do the selfish thing and take what Angel offered, but then he'd be restless beside me all day, and I really fucking needed some sleep. So I stroked him harder, using every trick I could think of, every little move that I knew he liked, before tilting my neck and whispering to my lover, "Want to feel your fangs in me."

Oh, that did it. With a soft growl, Angel bit me again, and when he drank from me, I could feel the pleasure of it coursing through his body. He thrust into me, into our hands, and I joined him, knowing now that our bodies had reached some sort of understanding. And then, with a rushing sound in my ears, I fell into desperate oblivion with him. Or maybe it was just the next vision. So difficult to tell.

* * *

  
When everything came back into focus and the shudders wracking my body came to an end, I found Spike gone again. Lost to another vision, somewhere else. Instead of here with me, like he should have been. "God damn it," I whispered, taking a deep breath and telling myself it wasn't Spike's fault that the Powers kept calling on him. But maybe it was _my_ fault, for having so much fucking destiny. For needing him like I did.

With a sigh, I cleaned us up, resigned to the fact that my partner would wake up when he woke up, and no sooner. Then, because I was still restless, I went through our things, packing and re-packing them and trying to decide best how to get through this. I found a pair of sleep pants and put them on, having never been comfortable sleeping naked, like Spike is, and then found the sketchbook I'd packed. Maybe that would help.

Finding a pencil to go with the book, I sat down on the floor next to the bed, resting the book on the mattress and just watching William for a moment. His eyes were closed and his body limp, head lolling to the side where I'd left him. Except for a minor twitch in his face now and again, his brows drawing together briefly or the muscles of his jaw bulging as he clenched his teeth, Spike lay absolutely still. The only way I could ever draw him was when he was sleeping, because otherwise he moved around too much. Or teased me for trying.

I didn't exactly know how we happened. Even though I thought about it more often than I should, I still hadn't come up with any answers. It felt wrong to say we were together because we needed to be, or because we were somehow addicted to each other, which I'm sure we were. Somehow, I'd come to love him, so deeply it hurt. I'd only ever loved one other person that much, in that way. Never before dying, never while soulless, and never in the hundred years I was cursed before meeting Buffy.

I had a niggling suspicion that Spike and I were together because we understood each other. Because we fit together well. Because of the way I could hold him in my arms and he didn't feel too big or too small there. Because he could make me laugh. Because we could have sex without ridding me of my soul, if we both took some responsibility for it. Because even after all these years, we knew each other so well that I could almost anticipate what insult he would use next. Because of the way he smelled like family and home, and yeah, cigarettes and alcohol and peroxide and sex and sometimes motor oil and more often than not, like me.

I had almost finished drawing him when I looked up one more time and saw his eyes open, watching me through lazy eyelashes. We shared a smile and one perfect, quiet moment, before he went and ruined it by saying, "Drawing somethin' to wank off to later, Ange?"

Rolling my eyes, I snapped the book shut, sketch unfinished, tossing it onto our bag before crawling up into bed with him. "Why would I need a picture for that? You strip with very little provocation. And you're always around."

"Yeah, well …" he started, but then gave up his argument and just settled against me, one arm and one leg thrown over me like he always does. Digging his face into my shoulder, Spike mumbled, "Love you, pet."

I wrapped on arm around him and kissed his forehead, "Love you too, Will."

Spike sighed like he always did when I called him that, and it always sounded like a happy noise, but sometimes I wasn't so sure. It did tend to get him riled up in bed, though. Calling him by the name I knew him as first. Maybe it made him feel safe, loved, taken care of. Or maybe it just didn't remind him so much of Dru, since he'd been Spike during most of his time with her.

And thinking of Dru brought me around to thinking about Darla, and then Buffy. At least Buffy had grown accustomed to seeing Spike and me together, to spending time with both of us. It had taken a few months, but by this point, I felt comfortable showing affection for Spike in front of her, and letting her get closer and closer to us. I did want her. Of course I wanted her. But I wanted Spike so much more. Him I could be with forever.

The problem was, Spike wanted her, too. He wanted us both to have her. He wanted a relationship with her, and with me. He wanted her with us all the time. He wanted her to be some sort of fucking adventure that we went on together. Of course, he hadn't said this out loud more than once or twice, when I asked, but I could tell he thought about it a lot. I felt like I wasn't enough for him, and it stung.

I told him this once near the beginning of the summer, yelled it actually, and he said, "No two people can be everything for each other, Angel. I know I'm supposed to be the fucking romantic here, and believe in true love and soul mates and happily ever bloody after, but that's the truth. Universal. And people either accept that, or they ignore it and forever feel like they're missing out on something. Maybe it's just friendships or emotional bonds or what have you, but lots of the time it's sex. So yeah, I want to be with _you_, Angel. Forever and always. I want to be yours and for you to be mine. But I can't help but see Buffy and want to be with her, too. And don't tell me you don't feel the same way, Angelus. To insist otherwise would be complete and utter rubbish."

"I shouldn't, though…"

"Fuck that," he yelled back. "It's complete horse shite to think you shouldn't. Fucking fairy tales!" Sighing, he backed off and took a few deep breaths before continuing in a softer voice, "I know you brought us here because it's the best place for us and all that bugaboo. And I know you don't want to lose your soul in me, so you torture yourself with Buffy's sodding presence. But you're torturing _me_ with her as well, luv."

"Oh," I sighed, never having realized how difficult it was for him, living here.

"I don't know, maybe I deserve it," he said in resignation, sitting down on our bed, hunched over with elbows on knees and hands clasped in front of his mouth.

I stood in place across the room, watching him and going over what he'd said for a few long moments. Then, I crouched down in front of him, looking up into his eyes, which were filled almost to the brim with angry tears and whispered, "You're right. You know what I want better than I do, precious. And I didn't mean to hurt you by bringing us here. But you have to realize how difficult this is going to be."

"I know," he said, blinking away the tears and then letting one hand brush the side of my face. "Tread softly and all that. Odds are we'll piss off the bint and she'll throw us out. So at least then, we won't have to worry anymore what might have been."

"I don't want her to end up hating us," I told Spike, leaning in to his touch. "And I don't want _you_ to end up hating _me_."

"I've never been able to hate you. And believe me, I tried for a _very_ long time, luv."

I doubted the truth of his statement, having been on the receiving end of what had felt like pure hatred many times, over the years. But his face looked completely open, in a way it normally wasn't and somehow, the knowledge that Spike couldn't hate me felt like a weight lifted. And I'd never hated him, even when he was evil and I had a soul. Because he was family, he was mine. How many times had I told him he'd be dead if I ever saw him again? And how many times had I ever meant it? Many and none. Many and none.

Though, he did have a knack for making me so angry that I wanted to cause him great bodily harm. Even to this day.

Maybe I could do this. Maybe I could be with them both, and images of that one night we'd spent together, all three of us, flooded my brain, like they did every time I let myself think about it. And as much as I hated admitting it, that night had been everything I'd ever wanted and more. It seemed miraculous that Spike had kept my soul intact throughout. Of course, he'd had lots of practice in the past few months. So maybe it could work.

"I don't know how," I realized then, breaking the silence. "I barely know how to love _one _person. So how the hell are we going to do this?"

Spike looked into my eyes then, a slow smile spreading across his face. "We let it happen," he decided.

"Taking things as slow as possible?"

"Yeah sure," he chuckled, "as slow as possible without losing the girl to frustration." I laughed a little with him, still nervous about all the possibilities surrounding the situation.

The memory brought a smile to my face, lying in a bed in Cleveland, with Spike around me, and I decided that every day it had been easier letting Buffy in, letting her be with us. We still hadn't done anything physical together, besides a few kisses here and there, but things were progressing slowly if steadily.

As I was falling asleep, I let myself imagine Buffy there in the bed with us, her soft feminine scent and the warmth always rolling from her body. Her steady breath and the thudding of her heart soothing us to sleep. That was something I was sure I could get used to.

If only Spike's visions ever stopped long enough for me to get him back from however the Powers were holding him hostage. So my sex life was another reason I needed to get this case solved and taken care of as quickly as possible. Maybe when Spike woke up, I'd explain that to him - that he'd better try his damnedest to keep us moving, to keep the case rolling, or it might be a long time before either of us was really satisfied again. Something in my head told me that I'd gone more than a hundred years without hardly anyone in my bed. I should be able to go a few days without. _Should _being the operative word.

* * *

_A/N: You gotta love a good Angel-brood._

_So, how did you like this chapter? There's plenty more mystery in the works, but I though it'd be nice to get into the characters' heads right away. Any thoughts?_


	3. Road Trip

_A/N: I moved this one over from the Buffy section, since it felt more like an Angel episode to me, even if Xander's included. I hope people are reading this one, but my hit counter has been broken lately, and I can't really tell. So, if you could let me hear from you, that would make me feel a lot better about posting frequently._

_Anyways, more character development goodness in this chapter, and almost no plot! Yay!_

* * *

Legacy Chapter 3 – Road Trip

From Cleveland, Spike led us roughly east, driving a vamp-safe car Rona had lent us from her operation, though Angel insisted that it really was his, in the long run. We traveled pretty quickly, but more often than not, Spike made us back-track so he could regain his barings, which seemed to go haywire whenever he had a vision. I didn't see the point, but Angel would yell at him for making us turn around again and again. I swear, it's weird thinking of those two together, when half the time, they argue like there's no tomorrow. But then I guess the other half of the time, they're either making gooey eyes at each other or scampering off to be alone.

At least somebody's happy.

So, Angel drove through that first night, Spike beside him with me and Xander in the back, and I think we got as far as Rochester, New York. Which isn't all that far, when you look at it on a map. So, when morning was close and Angel stopped for gas, I got out with him to stretch my legs, leaving the two other boys snoring away.

"How are you doing?" Angel asked me, rubbing his eyes as the gas meter ticked by. Part of my brain wished they would just switch over to liters already, but I supposed recalibrating all the pumps would take _years_. So, I guess gallons are okay for now.

"Alright," I replied. "I'd feel better if we knew where we were going."

"Wouldn't we all?"Angel agreed with a sigh.

Stretching my arms over my head and watching Angel's face as he stared at the meter numbers whizzing by, I asked, "Is Spike okay? I've been asleep most of the night."

"He's alright, or so he says. And yeah," Angel chuckled with a little smile, taking the gas nozzle from the car Rona had lent us and setting it back in its little cozy, "I know you were sleeping."

"Oh, god!" I cried in mortification. "Was I, like snoring really loud or somethin'?"

"No, no," Angel assured me, ripping his receipt from the machine. "Nothing like that." He leaned against the trunk of the car, crossing one ankle over the other, and I joined him there, glad for some fresh air, even if it did smell an awful lot like gasoline fumes.

"What then?" I asked, prodding him in the shoulder. Then, Illyria took over and demanded, "Give us answers, half-breed." Clapping a hand over my mouth and wresting back control from my resident demon personality, I gasped, "Sorry, Angel."

"Haven't been seeing much of her lately," Angel pointed out, glancing to me quickly before looking through the back window to check on Spike.

"Yeah," I agreed, poking at my temple in annoyance. "Illyria's been pretty good lately. Just sorta helping out on occasion."

Angel nodded at me, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing, like he knew we should get going again, but just couldn't bring himself to get back in the car.

"Hey!" I said, prodding Angel's shoulder again. "You haven't told me why you laughed at me. That's it isn't it? I snore like a band saw, don't I?

"No!" he insisted, laughing again. Geez, it was weird, getting used to an Angel who laughed so easily. I blamed Spike.

"What, then?" I asked, grabbing the keys dangling from Angel's fingers and holding them away from him, calling on Illyria to help hold him back as growled a little and tried to get them back. "We won't go again until you tell me, Angel."

"Fine," he sighed, stepping back. "You, kinda talk in your sleep, Fred."

"I _what_?"

"You talk. You know, mumble things," he insisted, eyes checking on Spike yet again.

Giving Angel what I hoped was a skeptical look, I asked, "What did I say?"

The passenger door of our car opened and Spike poured out, stumbling to join us and telling me, "You said, 'Oh, _Xander_! Take me _now_ you big one-eyed hunk!'" Spike's voice was trying to be mocking, but he seemed too exhausted to really get behind it. But that didn't mean he was lying, now did it?

Oh, crap.

"No!" I exclaimed in a hushed whisper. "I did not!" There wasn't anything happening between me and Xander, as far as I could tell. I loved Wesley, wholeheartedly, even if he was dead. There's no way I could be talking about Xander in my sleep! Even if there had been some nice chats here and there at the school, and on the flight to Cleveland. I mean, he had a girlfriend and everything. Renee something, who was always very nice to me. And I loved _Wesley_.

"Relax, Fred," Angel said with a sigh, holding out his hand for the keys, which I gave to him, before he turned and opened the trunk. In a few fluid motions, he popped open the cooler and snatched out plastic tub of blood, handing it to Spike. "He's lying. Whatever you said was all nonsense. Or maybe it was physics. I don't know."

"Oh," I said, letting out a relieved breath and trying not to watch as Spike gulped down the cold, goopy-looking blood. Ugh. That never fails to give me the willies.

"Yeah," Spike said at my expression, handing the container back to Angel, who stowed it again without taking some, I noticed. Catching my eye and wrinkling up his nose, Spike told me, "Don't much care for it that way, but maybe we can get some jerky or somethin' in here," he pointed to the gas station convenience store, "to mask the taste. What say you, duck?"

"Sure," I agreed with a smile. "I could go for some good old fashioned junk food. I mean," I laughed as we approached the doors together, leaving Angel and a still sound asleep Xander behind, "it is a road trip. It's practically required, right?"

"Exactly my thoughts on the matter," Spike agreed with a tired grin, heading straight for the coffee. I sighed for him, since he was the one directing this crazy hero-train, and couldn't trade off navigating like the other three of us could with driving. Or would be perfectly happy to, if Angel would ever fork over the keys. I almost wondered if Illyria could count as a fourth driver, but I didn't want to find out how many rules of the road were petty and beneath her.

Back outside, when Spike and I were freshly loaded with supplies, I approached the driver's door, opening it to Angel's face looking up at me in surprise.

"You didn't think you were gonna drive this whole thing by yourself, did you Angel?" I asked, giving him a no-nonsense tone of voice that I hoped he couldn't argue with. "Get some sleep, for heaven's sake. It's not like the back widows aren't necro-tempered."

Angel sighed, clutching the wheel in his hands and straining around to look at the back seat and then over to where Spike had again taken his navigator's chair. "Maybe…"

"I'm a good driver, Angel," I pointed out, crouching down to meet him at eye level. "I passed your silly test and everything."

"I know," he agreed, looking over to Spike, who eyed him expectantly over a cup of coffee so diluted with flavored syrup and spoonfuls of sugar, I wasn't sure it counted anymore. Only when Spike raised an eyebrow at him did Angel relent, sighing, "Fine."

"Thanks!" I said, giving Angel enough room to get out, before taking his chair and dutifully adjusting the seat and the mirrors to my shorter stature.

Spike grinned at me until his face went a little slack, eyes fluttering closed as he pushed his cup of coffee at me, just in time for me to catch it as it fell from his fingers. "Sorry, luv," he ground out between clenched teeth, pressing his fingers into his temples as if to keep his brain from bursting out.

"It's okay," I told Spike carefully, watching Angel take my old seat behind Spike and giving him a look to tell him what was up. "I've got it, no problem." I set Spike's cup down in the cup holder and started the engine, figuring if we were ever gonna get where we were going, it was best to keep moving. Then, I just about yelped in surprise when Xander started awake, kicking the back of my chair roughly.

"Wha?" he asked as I rolled away from the gas station. "Were we stopped?"

In the rearview mirror, I saw Angel give a tight-lipped glare of annoyance at our traveling partner, who tapped my shoulder and asked, "Why didn't you wake me? I have to pee!"

"Christ," Angel muttered softly in disbelief as I pulled a U-turn and returned to the gas station. As Xander hopped out to use the bathroom, I decided maybe it was better that we had to go back, since Spike's directions were sure to change, even just slightly, after this latest vision.

* * *

We'd been driving for two days straight when the – well, you know – really hit the fan. Spike's gut, or whatever it was directing us across the country, had taken us southward and put us somewhere in New England, but I wasn't exactly sure where, since Angel and Xander kept fighting over the map.

"Where to next, Blondie Bear?" Xander asked Spike as we approached a T-intersection. Xander and I both looked over and found the vampire was dozing in the front passenger seat, where he'd been stationed as the rest of us drove. I estimated that he hadn't had much more than an hour or two of sleep at a time in the past few days. Not to mention the occasional visions that still plagued him, keeping him awake even when we didn't need him. Angel slept in the seat behind Spike, clutching the map of Pennsylvania like his life depended on keeping it safe from Xander and I sat next to Angel and behind the other human, watching the scenery go by.

I'd never really been anywhere this wooded before. Unless you counted Pylea, that is. During the daytime, driving up and down little two-lane highways as Spike's ESP or whatever guided us, the trees were all very pretty, still green with the end of summer, sunlight dappling through the trees. However, when nighttime came around? Let's just say I felt disconcerted. At best.

To get Spike's attention as we sat at that intersection, Xander prodded the vampire's shoulder, probably more harshly than he should have, since Spike moaned pitifully with an annoyed growl. And that sound just did something to Angel, because before I knew what was going on, he was apparently awake, in full vamp face – snarling and everything – with one hand wrapped around Xander's neck.

"Angel!" I cried at him, pulling on his arm to get him to let go. "You'll kill him!"

Xander scrabbled at Angel's impossibly strong hand, arching his back and skidding his feet, letting go of the break petal so we started moving forward into the intersection. I let out a yelp of surprised terror, and that's what got Spike moving. Quicker than I could really follow without bending time, Spike blinked out of his stupor, put the car in park, and turned on Angel.

"Ange, luv," he said in a low and dangerous voice, clamping his hand on Angel's wrist below where my hands tugged on the offending arm, "let go of the whelp."

Angel just growled at him, all sorts of pointy teeth flashing. At this point, Xander's face turned bright red and I could hear him gasping for breath that didn't come, his mouth making empty smacking sort of noises that made my heart race in empathetic fear.

"Bollocks," Spike said softly before taking a determined breath and flicking Angel's forehead right between the eyes with one sharp finger. "Wake up, you ponce!"

"Ack!" Angel started for half a second before shaking his head as if to clear it, his game face melting away. "What?"

"You're killing the boy," Spike pointed out wearily, clutching Angel's wrist harder to draw his attention to the rapidly purpling Xander.

"Oh, god!" Angel cried, letting Xander go so the man could take huge spluttering breaths and stumble from the car, almost letting enough sunlight in to fry the vampires in his haste to escape. Flinching away from the light until I reached over and closed the door, Angel asked, "What happened?"

"Tried to kill the boy in your sleep, pet," Spike said, sliding over into the driver's seat and piloting the car down the left path of the intersection before pulling over on the side of the road to wait for Xander to calm down. "Almost did it, too."

Surprised, Angel turned to me and I nodded at him grimly. He had almost killed Xander. How many times over the past few years of working together could Angel have killed me just by accident? I shivered at the thought.

"Why? Why would I want to kill him?"

"Because he's a right annoying bastard?" Spike joked wearily, turning around in his seat to face us. Angel sighed as if knowing he wouldn't get a straight answer from his boyfriend and so gave me an expectant eye.

"I guess," I started, looking anywhere but at the vampire next to me, "that Xander prodded Spike into waking up and his protests... Made you growly."

"Yeah, thanks, Sire," Spike scoffed, returning to his seat, "for protecting me from the big bad one-eyed wimp."

Shaking my head at Angel's look of horrified confusion, I slipped from the car carefully and followed Xander out into the daylight. Approaching him gently, I stood near Xander, but not too near, and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he croaked, rubbing his throat around his Adam's apple. "Effing vampires!"

I stared at my shoes, trying to think of something to say and eventually coming up with, "I know it's no excuse, but we're all really on edge right now."

Xander nodded and walked away a few steps, stretching his arms up above his head before swinging them in front of him, and it reminded me of how Gunn moved. Or, used to move, since he was probably dead. And here I was, just another freak in the band of freaks charged with protecting the world. So many days, I just thought, "What's left for me here?" Except for the two vampires in the car, all the friends I'd made after Pylea were either dead, or missing and presumed dead. Unless you count Connor, but he attended school half a world away. And Lorne, of course, for whom all signs pointed to alice and well.

So why did I stay? I had one of my answers when I stepped up to join Xander looking out onto a farmer's field next to the road, and he gave me a small, brave smile. So it was that, the promise of new friends (not boyfriends as Spike kept trying to insist), and the shiny high-tech lab Angel's money bought me, and using my Illyria-powers for the greater good. It wasn't half bad, but sometimes, I just wanted to hide away from anything supernatural, from the things that had sent me to Pylea and once I'd gotten back, killed all my friends.

"Is that a normal sigh or an 'oh my god, my boss is a frickin' lunatic' sigh?" Xander asked me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Oh," I thought about it, startled. "Normal, I guess," I told him with a little smile.

"Man," he scoffed with a joking smile, "why doesn't anyone ever sigh the 'boss is a lunatic' sigh? Just once, I tell you, and I would be happy!"

Chuckling a little at Xander's protests, I replied, "I'll see what I can do."

"Oh, thank you, kind lady!" he smiled, with a little bow.

After a few moments of silence, I could feel Illyria fighting to get to the surface, and I couldn't stop her from saying, "If you hate the half-breeds as much as you claimed, why would you willingly accompany us on this mission? Worm."

"Yikes," Xander cried, jumping back a bit. "Man, that's creepy!"

He looked us up and down as I tried to fight my way back out, but I was so tired after the longest car-ride of my life (and I drove from Texas to Florida once) that soon, I decided it wasn't worth it. If Illyria tried to kill someone, then I would intervene. Otherwise, it was nice just handing the reigns over to someone else.

"Well?" Illyria demanded.

"Uh," Xander said, shifting uncomfortably under my demon's stare, "I guess I just wanted to help. I wanted to get away, you know? I didn't think this would be the Car-ride of the Damned over here."

Illyria regarded him for half a moment before continuing her interrogation. "What do you seek to escape here with us, who are not your true friends?"

"Could we not get into it, Illyria?"

"Is this a case of your human rules? I should not be breaching them. It isn't done, according to Fred." Inwardly, I sighed, wondering why, of all times, would Illyria start listening to me now. Not when we were trying to negotiate a lower price on that Liquid Chromatograph, but here, talking to Xander. Crazy demon.

"Yeah," Xander agreed. "Usually if someone asks to drop a topic, you drop it."

"You humans are too …" I could feel my face wrenching into an expression of disgust, "… _polite_. It sickens me how much you could have, if only you just had the courage to take it."

"I know, I know," Xander sighed, wandering back to the car. "I've heard the speech, Lyrie. I don't need it again."

I found that it felt kinda nice, when Xander called my demon 'Lyrie'. Only Spike ever called her that, now that Gunn and Lorne weren't around anymore. God, I missed them. Gunn yes, but Lorne too. Angel said that he'd asked Buffy to send a slayer to check on the big green demon, and he was fine, singing away in Vegas, _not_ a prisoner of any nefarious plots.

In some ways, Xander reminded me of Lorne, too. Quick with a joke, prone to noticing things other people hadn't, only brave when he needed to be, but _always _brave when he needed to be.

As we approached the car, Xander rubbed his throat again, and told me (Illyria had faded into the background by now), "I don't know if I can get in just yet."

"You wanna ride on top?" I asked him with a smile. "I'm pretty sure Angel packed some ropes and bungee cords. I bet we could strap you on up there, safe and dandy."

Xander laughed, eyeing the roof of the car. "No thanks. I don't particularly enjoy the feel of bugs in my teeth. Though I've heard they're quite nutritious!"

Smiling again, which also felt kinda nice, I ducked down, opening the shadiest car door and sticking my head in. Somehow, Angel had managed to crawl into the driver's seat without leaving the car and had Spike's head against his shoulder, petting him absently. Almost like I used to do with my dog, Albert, I thought, but then realized Angel wouldn't take kindly to me comparing his boyfriend to a dog. When he heard me peek my head in, Angel craned his neck over to look at me. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah," I told Angel, waving for Xander to join us. "No lasting damage." I hopped into the back seat and shifted all the way over to sit behind Angel so that Xander wouldn't have to. The guy hopped in, giving me a grateful look and buckling his seatbelt right away.

"Xander," Angel said, his serious tone in full force. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, thanks Dead Boy," the man replied, keeping his eyes out the window. "Just keep your distance and get us there as soon as you can, hey? The less time we have to spend cramped in this car, the better."

Angel agreed with a nod, setting his sights to the road ahead and starting the engine. "Still north, hon?" he asked Spike, nudging him with a gentle shrug of his shoulder.

"Yeah, you bleedin' sap," Spike replied, massaging one temple with his fingers. "North, if it's still that way." He pointed with his free hand forward and slightly to the right of where we were headed, heaving about the thousandth great big sigh since we began this trip. Looking out my window, I wondered how many headaches a vampire could have before he dusted. I imagined there would have to be a lot of brain damage involved to actually _dust_ the vamp, so Spike seemed safe for now. Just in a lot of pain.

* * *

_Don't forget to review, please! And if you can, tell me what you think of Fred's POV. I'm trying to make her in character, but still dealing with hosting Illyria and the events of the end of Season 5 - including Wesley's death. Also, I don't have much experience writing Xander. Heck, almost none. So, what did you think of his dialogue? I'm not so much witty-pop-culture-reference-girl, but I hope I'm getting the general feel of his speech pattern._

_Also, I thought Spike's method of diffusing the situation with Angel was hilarious, how about you?  
_

_Okay, as always, thanks so much for reading!_


	4. Harmless Deceptions

_Plot incoming...  
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Legacy Chapter 4 – Harmless Deceptions

Once we reached a little town in New Hampshire called Peddleford, Spike's visions stopped. At least that's what he said. But every now and then as we went about finding someplace to stay, I caught him zoning out, staring off into space until he shook himself out of it. When the innkeeper showed us to own room in the little bed and breakfast Fred had insisted upon, I saw him snap out of another as we walked.

After the woman had left, I asked him, "You okay, _cor_?"

"Mmm?" he asked, looking up at me as he started to undress. "Aye. I'm okay, luv. Just need a little shut-eye."

"Well, you've got some time," I told Spike, watching him sit down on the bed to unlace his boots while I made sure all the windows were covered. "I didn't see a way to get into the car without frying, so we'll get to work tomorrow night."

"Wuss," he muttered, collapsing back onto the bed, crosswise. "Bothered by a little sunshine."

"Hey," I cried, smiling as I caught on to his joking tone. "Here I thought you'd want to keep me from ending up as a pile of ashes." And with a sigh, I collapsed down onto the bed beside Spike.

"Mmm, aye," he grinned, poking me in the ribs. "You're much better solid and whole."

Lacing my fingers with his as we stared up at the ceiling, which had an antique-looking fan and lamp, I asked Spike, "How d'you think Fred's doing?"

"Dunno," he shrugged. "But until coming on this trip, we've less and less of Illyria around. Haven't we?"

Thinking back on it, I replied, "Yeah. You're right." Turning to face my boyfriend, I added, "Wonder if that means she's starting to get over Wesley?"

"Oh, don't hold your breath for that to happen, pet," Spike scoffed and I chuckled at the expression, since I don't breathe. Rolling his eyes at me, Spike said, "Well, you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know," I agreed. "They weren't even together for that long, but she must've loved him so much."

"World comes to an end, you lose someone like that," he mused.

Noticing the pain in his voice and wafting from his skin, I asked softly, "Buffy?"

Nodding, Spike turned over to hug me, and I wrapped my arms around him. I knew that pain, probably as well as he did. Sadly, I flashed back to that moment, when Willow had told me, words unneeded, that she was gone, and it hurt again so much, that I had to tighten my grip on Spike further, to remind myself that he wasn't going anywhere and that Buffy was alive again.

So for a few moments, I breathed Spike in, feeling his body relax beside me with every second that passed. Just being here in this town made him so much less anxious that I felt myself grow less anxious in turn. His emotions tended to cloud mine more often than not these days, to the point where I wasn't quite sure where he ended and I began. Until he did something stupid, that is.

"Pet?" Spike asked after a few moments, mumbling into my shoulder.

"Yeah, hon?"

"Order up some scotch and some Buffalo wings, would you?"

"Tell you what," I said, sitting up. "It's still somewhat early. I'll go out and get them, see if Fred and Xander want to come along to get the lay of the land."

"And leave me here all by my lonesome?" he asked in a mock-frightened tone.

I laughed and stood up, stretching quickly before turning to face him. "You can barely keep your eyes open, Spike," I chuckled. "You get some rest and I'll be back in a few hours.

"Yeah, okay," he said, crawling under the covers. I always find it funny how much less contrary he gets when he's sleepy, like he hasn't the energy for it. Spike's contentiousness had been such a big part of his personality for so long, since I'd known him, it was an entertaining surprise to find he had to work at it.

I hid my smile at the thought and bent over Spike, giving my boyfriend one last kiss. After making sure I had everything, I left the room and took my phone out of my pocket because I had several calls to make.

I hated the fucking thing. I hated it with a fiery passion that I usually reserved for demons bent on destroying the world. I hated the way it beeped and rumbled and had buttons entirely too small for my fingers. But I needed it – to keep in touch when things went to hell; to find people around the castle without using smell, since Buffy says it's too creepy; to talk to Buffy, even though she was so far away.

Making my way outside, into the darkness and fresh air, I wrestled with the stupid thing until it called Buffy. While it rang, I paced around and hoped she wasn't still sleeping. But when she answered with a cheery, "Hi, Angel! What's up?" relief and a smile washed over me.

"Spike says we're in the right place now."

"Finally!" she scoffed brightly. "So, where are you?"

"It's a small town called Peddleford, New Hampshire. He can't narrow it down more than that."

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully before taking a sharp breath, like something had just occurred to her. "Willow wants me to ask, have you ever had something like this happen before? With Cordelia?"

Wow. It had been entirely too long since I'd thought about her, and the realization made my mood even stormier than it had been. Was I forgetting about her? Had Spike truly replaced her in my life? For a second, I thought, maybe that was okay. In a completely, incomprehensibly _wrong_ sort of way. But, to answer Buffy's question, I said, "No. Not that I know of. Usually the Powers send us enough clues to find the trouble right away. Not necessarily how to beat it..."

Buffy chuckled, "Alright. We'll work on it here. Look for any patterns in your area using the newspapers and online reports. You know how good Willow is at those things."

"Yeah, I know," I replied. "My team'll cover the work here on the ground."

"Good," Buffy agreed before asking, "How're you getting along with Xander?"

"Okay, I guess," I told her, carefully not mentioning how I'd almost killed him. She'd find out soon enough, and I didn't want to be the one to tell her. "He still seems a little uncomfortable around me and Spike. But he and Fred have been getting along well, I guess. Spike would be able to tell you more, if he was still awake."

"Good. I was hoping you guys wouldn't break his brain right away."

Chuckling, I replied, "No. The road trip wasn't much fun for anyone, but we got through it." Changing the topic swiftly, I told her, "We're staying at a bed and breakfast here," and I gave her the all the information, including the name – Snooze and Snack by Helen and Jack. I shuddered, just having to say it out loud.

"Is it super girly? Like tiny flowers on all the wallpaper?" she asked with a laugh.

"It's absolutely awful," I told her, smiling when she laughed. "But Fred insisted, since it's the only place in town, and Xander agreed. So here we are. The lady at the front desk was nice enough."

"She didn't have a problem putting you and Spike in the same room?" she asked me gently.

"Not that I could tell," I replied truthfully.

"Good. I'm glad," she said. "You two cause enough trouble around here."

"Hey!" I laughed. "We don't cause that much trouble."

"Do I have to remind you –"

"Okay, okay," I smirked. "I get it."

"Just try to be good, okay? No sex in public."

I chuckled again. "Right."

After a moment, she said softly, "I kinda miss you."

"Yeah?" I asked, wondering where she was going with this. "Why kind of?"

With a little snort, Buffy replied, "Okay. I miss you. _Both_. Even if you've only been gone three days."

"And who knows how much longer..."

After a sigh and a short span of silence, she took a quick breath and said, "How's Spike doing, sweetie?" Buffy had been using these terms of endearment more and more lately, and I couldn't decide whether or not I liked them. But it was just like I couldn't really decide one way or the other to be with her, though things had been moving more towards _with _as the summer progressed. The indecision gnawed at me a little, especially at times like these, when she expressed affection for me so easily, because I hated the chance that I might be jerking her around emotionally. Buffy deserved so much more.

Remembering that Buffy had asked a question, she'd asked after Spike, I sighed. "He's been better," I told her softly. "I don't think he's really slept more than a few hours since the visions started, but they seem to have stopped for now."

"Good," she answered. "That's good. You'll let him sleep before you take him out to look for clues, won't you?"

"Already on it," I assured her. "I know how to take care of him."

"Alright, Angel," she replied, and I could tell she was trying to be perky for my sake. "We'll work the problem from our end. And keep me updated, okay?"

"I'll do that," I promised, feeling the conversation draw to a close. "Talk to you soon."

"Bye, Angel," Buffy whispered, and then hung up and for a second or two, I wished she was there with us. Especially since I was sure she'd help me watch Spike's back. I wasn't so sure about Xander, the person I called next.

"Yeah?" he answered the phone and already I felt annoyed.

"I'm going for supplies and thought I'd scope out the town. You in?"

Xander's silence told me he was thinking twice about being anywhere near me since the incident that afternoon. Well, fine. Let him think twice. I'd only offered because he was Buffy's friend, and I had to be nice to him, if I wanted to be with her. Which I still wasn't sure about. I was just about to retract my offer, when Xander decided, "Sure. Where should I meet you? What room are you?"

"Seven, but Spike's sleeping. Just meet me out front."

"Be there in a minute," he agreed, hanging up on me without so much as a goodbye.

I called Fred down, too, and glared at Xander until he gave me the keys to the car. We all piled in, and I drove away from the inn, feeling Spike's presence retreating as we left. The warm feeling I got whenever he was near faded and the lack felt distinctly uncomfortable. Damned family blood. Wretched souled-vampire blood which tasted much better than it should have. Christ, now I was thinking about it, and my stomach rumbled audibly.

"Time for some dinner?" Fred asked me from the passenger seat, with a grin.

"Think there're any butcher shops open this late?" I asked hopefully.

"Doubt it," Xander scoffed from the back seat.

"But, when's the last time you ate, Angel?" Fred asked me, concern drawing together her brows. "I saw you giving your share to Spike. Don't think I didn't."

"Cleveland," I confessed, trying not to think about it too much.

Shaking her head, Fred muttered, "Oh, lord," and went back to watching the buildings drift by as I drove the short distance to the tiny downtown area.

"Why?" Xander asked, leaning forward in his seat. "How often do you normally eat?"

Shrugging as I made a turn and crawled along the main street looking for parking, I replied, "Once or twice a day."

"Yikes," he cried. "Just remember fangs off, okay, buddy?"

"I'm not going to eat you, Xander," I scowled, parking the car and killing the engine.

In her Illyria voice, Fred pointed and said, "There is a butcher shop, half-breed. We shall investigate."

"Geez," Xander whispered, as we followed Illyria. "D'you ever get used to the switching back and forth?"

"Not really," I replied, watching the guy's face as he studied Illyria. Of course, she still looked like Fred, but in the light her eyes would have been flecked with blue. Fred tried to give me an explanation for the phenomenon more than once, but I still found it as creepy as hell.

Peering in the window, Illyria told me, "There are no life forms in this building."

"I'm guessing plenty of dead ones, though," Xander joked.

"I'm sure," was Illyria's off-the-cuff reply. Was she developing a sense of humor? Or borrowing Fred's? I found that possibility even creepier than the eye thing.

"Don't break in, please, Illyria," I almost begged, pulling her away from the glass with a hand on her shoulder. "We don't need the attention."

"But how will you protect my pet without nourishment?"

With a sigh, I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, drawing another breath to explain, "For the last time, Spike is not your pet, Illyria. He's mine. And I can protect him just fine, especially if you let Fred come back here in the morning to _buy_ blood."

"Your insistence on using currency, when you are perfectly capable of quietly taking what you need, is foolish and misguided."

"Yeah, thanks," I said, shaking my head and walking away from her. I'd found that, in the end, it was usually the best strategy. It kept me from hurting Fred on accident.

Xander caught up to me shortly, walking down the sidewalk beside me for a few steps before saying, "You know, I don't think I've seen more of Illyria on this trip that I have the whole time since you guys came to Scotland. Does that mean she's getting worse?"

"No," I growled. "She gets this way when Fred's tired."

"What way?"

"More blatant," I shrugged. "More combative. More fond of pissing me off."

"So how do you know it's Illyria," Xander said, looking over his shoulder where the demon followed behind us, studying a dead leaf very intently, "and not just Fred yanking your chain?"

"Because I know Fred," I told him, trying to let my voice convey the fact that I wasn't to be argued with. But this was Xander.

"You knew her before she went all bad-ass demon. That changes a person."

"And how would you know?" I provoked him harshly, wishing for just a fraction of a second that my unconscious attempt to kill him earlier had worked.

"Uh, hello?" he said. "Possessed by a hyena."

"_That_ doesn't _count_!" I argued, and thankfully, Xander just scoffed and let it drop. After another glance behind us to make sure Illyria was still following, I took a look around the town. The main part was small, just a few square blocks, and when we came across a liquor store, I ducked in.

"What are we doing here?" Xander asked me, following me in.

"What do you think?" I snarled back at him, really just wanting to get this little mission over with and get back to Spike.

"I don't really see copious amounts of alcohol and getting this mission done mixing, _per se_..."

"It's for Spike," I told him, finding the scotch section and picking out Spike's second-favorite brand. They had his favorite, but if I bought that, he'd just tease me for knowing him so well and being a thoughtful poof. Who was fat and had bad hair. So, second favorite it was.

On the way back up to the register, Xander said, "So, Angel? When you say you know Fred ... does that mean you've, like, _known_ Fred?"

"What?" I asked, coming to a dead stop, my eyebrows as high as they could go, and my mouth hanging open slightly.

"Like," he said, suddenly looking like he wished he hadn't asked, "did you two ever...?"

"No!" I cried, setting the bottle down near the register. And then, under Xander's disbelieving gaze, I thought about it again. "After Pylea," I sighed, handing the clerk my credit card, "she had a crush on me. But that's all it was. Oh," I added, "and she kissed me once, but we were undercover, so..."

"Good," he nodded, watching me thank the clerk and take my bag.

"Why would you even think otherwise?" I hissed at him, still incredulous. And why would he be asking anyways? Had Spike actually picked up on something between the two of them and was that why he teased Fred about it? Then, since Xander didn't seem to have anything left to say and I still had to fulfill Spike's second request, I asked the clerk, "Can you recommend someplace to get good Buffalo wings this time of night?"

"Sure," the girl replied, giving me that smile I'm used to deflecting, like she'd be happy to join me in finding them, if only I'd ask.

I'd started to hate that look. It had been an unwelcome reminder of how easily I used to feed before the soul. Of how many of those victims came willingly. Pissed off at Xander and now pissed off at this girl, an idea snapped into my head and came out before I even thought it through. "Thank god," I told her, with a put-upon sigh. "If I can't bring him some wings, my boyfriend is gonna be pissy with me for a week."

That seemed to startle the smile off her face pretty effectively, so I filed that trick for future use and took her directions to a pub around the corner. Just one more stop, one Illyria to collect, and another drive through town, and I could get some real sleep, in a real bed. Maybe if Spike's visions really had stopped, we could have a nice day together, too. I mean, we certainly couldn't leave the building until sundown came around again. Maybe we'd make good use of it.

* * *

In the morning, or I guess it was around noon, Xander and I drove in to town, to start asking around for anything that might have caused Spike's visions. "So," I asked him as Xander found a parking place on the main drag, "any ideas where to look first? Or how to ask around?"

"I've got the perfect idea," Xander replied, leading the way from the car and into the shop in front of us.

"A comic book store?" I asked him as he pushed open the door, a bell jingling to announce our presence.

"Sure," Xander shrugged, speaking to me in a low voice. "If anyone would be looking for weird stuff going on, it would be these guys."

"Greetings," a young man called to us as he emerged from a room in the back. He had a long pony-tail and a surprisingly well-kept goatee, though his clothes left something to be desired, since they were rumpled and his black T-shirt had more than one hole in it that I could see.

"Hey, man," Xander called back casually with a tiny wave before picking up a comic book near the door, flipping through it quickly.

Growing confused, I asked Xander quietly, "I thought we were here to get some answers, not to shop."

"Just gimme a minute, okay?" he replied, taking the book up to the counter, while I stayed back at the rack, picking some of the books up and studying the brightly colored covers. "Hey," Xander said to the clerk, holding up the comic, "have you gotten the next one in yet?"

"No, dude," the clerk said, shaking his head and shrugging. "Supposed to be here yesterday, but the trucks don't always deliver on time way out here."

"Yeah, I suppose not," Xander agreed, matching the guy's shrug.

"Hey, nice eye patch," he continued, nodding at Xander's face. "Real, or just to impress the ladies?" I heard him whisper to Xander, flicking his eyes toward me.

"Real," Xander whispered back. "Though it does give me a Nick Fury sort of air that my girlfriend likes."

_Girlfriend_? I thought nervously. Was I supposed to be acting like his girlfriend? Oh, wait. Renee. I'd heard her talking to Andrew about all this comic book stuff more than once when taking my turn at the monitors in the Control Room. Renee liked his eye patch? I suppose it did give him sort of a mysterious look. If he wasn't smiling and joking around like usual.

"Can I ask what happened?" the clerk said somewhat self-consciously, like he knew it was rude to ask but couldn't help himself.

"Well the real story is pretty boring," Xander insisted, "but I've got a few alternatives. Which one do you want to hear? Fishing accident? Bomb-squad drop out? Murderous crows? Insane preacher? I can keep 'em comin'…"

The clerk laughed at Xander's easy smile and said, "Okay, okay! Forget I asked, man!" Chuckling to himself again, the clerk straightened some of the displays on his counter and asked, "Anything else you're lookin' for?"

"Yeah, actually," Xander said, looking my direction, and I got the impression that he wanted me to join him at the counter. "My friend Fred, here, is kind of a conspiracy nut."

_I am? _I thought, oh wait, "Sure am!" I said proudly, with a smile.

"And we heard," Xander said, keeping his voice low and mysterious, "that something strange has been going on here."

The guy opened his mouth, eyes lighting up like he had something great to tell us, until he stopped. Now, he suddenly reminded me of the guy who owned the LA bookstore where I shot Jasmine and Angel. He'd been into all sorts of conspiracy theories. But here, this man eyed us suspiciously and asked, "Where are you from?"

Quickly, before Xander could answer, I replied, "Well, originally I'm from Texas, but I've lived just down the road in Marlow almost eight years now. Where are you from?" Now I felt somewhat glad that we'd been zig-zagging around the area for so long, since I'd just about memorized the geography.

"From here," he replied slowly, before asking, "You aren't reporters, are you?"

"No, silly," I said, giving him my brightest smile. "Just two friends looking for something interesting that might be going on. I'm a professional researcher, you know. And I just found out that my last subject of interest, the government addition of mind-altering drugs to potato chips, was just a bunch of hooey. Oh, god," I said, acting severely disappointed. "What's going on here isn't all a bunch of hooey, is it?"

"No, ma'am," he said, shaking his head furiously, trying to alleviate my disappointment. "Something's definitely going on." Xander and I shared a hopeful look before I gestured for the man to continue. "Alright, so I had this friend, Debbie." He waited for us to nod, and so we did, urging him to continue. "And she had just started going out with my friend Rich, when she found out she was pregnant. Now, Rich swears he never slept with her and Debbie swears she never slept with anyone, _ever_."

"Uh-huh," I replied, trying to hide the skeptical tone I felt creeping into my voice. However, I also had to push down Illyria's urge to ask why procreation seemed to be such an important subject to lower beings, so I'm sure some of the skepticism sneaked in there.

"Right, so Rich breaks up with her, because something's not right, and then, when Debbie has the kid? It killed her."

"She died in child birth?"

"Yep, and you might be asking, 'What's so special about that?' but it's happened again and again in the past two years. Girls getting pregnant without knowing how. Of course, not all of them die of it, but many more than should be, have been."

Xander gave me a look, like he wanted to gauge my reaction, before asking, "How do you know it's not just a trend? Blame the kid on something 'weird' happening, so no one has to take responsibility?"

"Debbie wasn't like that," the man insisted. "She was a true blue as they come."

"So what do you think it is?" I asked him, trying to sound excited about the possibilities. "Something in the water? Oh! You don't think it could be…?"

"Aliens," the clerk nodded, completely seriously. "I saw Debbie's mom with the kid a few months ago at Cherry's. Cherry's Diner? There was something just … off about him."

"Aliens," I whispered, giving Xander an excited look to tell him to play along. "Do you think we could talk to Debbie's mom?"

The man shrugged, "Don't see why not." He jotted a telephone number and an address down on a piece of paper, demanding just before he handed it to me, "Just don't tell Mrs. Gage I sent you. She doesn't take kindly to me since I told her little Billy was probably an alien."

"Great," I smiled, taking the information. "I'm Fred, by the way. It was nice to meet you."

"Garrett," he replied, waving as Xander and I left. "Pleasure was all mine."

"So," Xander began as we got back in the car and pulled away from the curb. "What are the chances this guy's story is something we should look into?"

"Well," I said, fingering the scrap of paper still in my hands, "as conspiracy theories go, it sucks."

"It sucks?"

"Well, yeah," I nodded. "He gave us a specific time-frame and it happened to a friend of his, not a friend of a friend, with a specific name and everything. He gave us a _phone number_, Xander," I pointed out.

"Right," Xander nodded, making a turn into another parking lot so we could stop the car and talk. "So you're thinking?"

"This could be it," I told him, but then hedging my bet, I continued, "or this could be a complete waste of time."

"Well, it's the best we've got so far, right?" Xander asked with a sigh, rubbing one of his eyebrows.

"Right," I nodded. "Wanna start with little Billy Gage?" I held up the piece of paper, waving it a little as if to tempt Xander, and he smiled back at me, getting into the spirit of the investigation.

"What's our cover going to be this time?"

* * *

_Are you intrigued? I hope so! Don't forget to review..._


	5. A Little More Conversation

Legacy Chapter 5 – A Little More Conversation

Okay, so I can't say that the trip I took with Fred and the vampires was a barrel of laughs, but it wasn't that bad, either. Really.

What? You don't believe me?

Fine, fine, it was awful. About the worst week I'd ever had, barring the semi-annual apocalypse and ditching Anya at the altar. So, it was better than that.

I still don't know why I agreed to go. Sure, Renee and I had had a fight two days before, and Buffy gave me her puppy-dog eyes, and Fred wanted someone else there, and I really needed a break from my monitors and all the stress that went along with them. So, I went. And it wasn't completely and entirely awful. Just mostly awful. And not at all stress-relieving.

Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. Those first few days were okay, despite almost getting throttled by Dead Boy. And the last few days were alright, but we're getting to that. There was one day that was worse by far.

It started out okay, when Fred and I went asking around Peddleford looking for something that might have set off Spike's visions.

Can I just take a minute to observe how royally messed up the whole Spike-coming-back-from-the-dead episode was? Not to mention him being all lovey-dovey with Angel when they came to Scotland. The two of them still grossed me out, even after having the whole summer to get used to it. All the hand-holding and the smiling and the quick kisses were one thing, but I stumbled across them! Going at it against the outer castle wall, in the short alley between the service doors near the kitchen and the garage! I'm just glad it was dark out and I only had to worry about closing one eye. Sheesh!

So anyway, all that ickiness aside, it was a good time hanging out with Fred, doing our Scooby-gang investigatory thing at the comic shop. The kid that Garrett pointed us to and his grandmother were both out when we got to their house, which was disappointing because Fred and I had a kick-ass cover. We were going to say we were from a local charity starting up for the children whose single mothers had died in childbirth. We'd ask what they needed, how little Billy was doing. If he had any alien-like tendencies… Kick-ass, right? Yeah, I thought of that one. Well, Fred _helped_, of course, but it was my idea.

After that, and a quick call to Angel – who sounded busy, according to Fred (yehrg!) – we decided to go ask around at the little Peddleford hospital. That time, we went with the good old reporter tack, claiming to work for the Sunnydale Times. Hey, it _was_ a paper before the whole town got swallowed up in the sinkhole created during Spike's kamikaze mission.

"Sorry," one nurse told us after we asked, "but we can't give out any information unless you're immediate family."

"Alright, thanks," Fred replied in her friendly southern drawl, that I was beginning to like the more I heard it. "Don't hurt to ask!" Shrugging at me, Fred asked, "Shall we move on, partner?"

"We shall," I agreed, grinning at Fred and taking her arm as we walked back toward the elevators.

We'd almost gotten there, too, when I heard a sharp, "Psst," from a doorway as we passed. At first, I wasn't sure I'd heard anything, but I stopped, turning my ear and listening. Sure enough, there it was again. "Psst!"

Stepping back, I leaned to look through the door, and found a very young-looking woman in a nurse's uniform. God, she didn't look any older than Dawn, and she was responsible for other people's _lives_? Well, I suppose I was helping Buffy protect the lives of the Sunnydale citizens by sixteen. Maybe, despite the obvious lack of experience, she was a good nurse – who was furtively waving Fred and me out of the hallway and into the darkened hospital room.

"What's going on?" Fred asked, speaking just above a whisper and eying the nurse as I ushered her in and closed the door behind us.

"What's with all the hissing and the waving?" I asked the nurse, patting Fred's arm to keep her from worrying. Or going Illyria on me, because that was always _such_ a hoot.

"I heard you asking around," she said, looking past me to the little window in the door, as if she was expecting someone to show up there any moment. "About the babies."

"Did you?" Fred asked, and we shared a look. Maybe we'd found what we were looking for.

"Yeah," the girl replied, clasping her hands together. "We're not supposed to talk about it, but I can't stand it anymore."

"Can't stand what?" I asked her, wondering if this girl had something real to tell us, or if she'd just gone crazy somewhere along the way.

"Too many of the mothers die," the nurse whispered, and she looked like she might cry any moment. "My sister died, and no one can explain it."

"What's your name, sweetie?" Fred asked her, stepping forward to lay a calming hand on her shoulder.

"Rebecca," she choked out before taking a deep breath. "Becky."

"Okay, Becky," Fred nodded, ushering her toward an armchair beside the hospital bed. "Why don't we sit down here, and you can tell us what happened?"

"I can't," Becky said, shaking her head. "I have to get back to my shift right away. But you should know something's not right. You should know that my sister died like all the others, and my nephew? There's something wrong with Dylan."

"Was it a difficult labor?" Fred asked her. "Was your nephew damaged in the process?"

"No!" Becky cried. "That's just it! Labor was fine, Dylan was fine. But then, Jessica just started bleeding and bleeding and we couldn't stop it. She died for no reason!" Becky was crying at this point, and Fred gave me a worried look. This must be the place.

"Becky?" I asked gently, crouching down to get her to look at me. "Thank you for telling us this. We'll try to get to the bottom of it, but can you describe what's wrong with Dylan?"

"I don't know," she sighed, wiping her face. "Jessica was such a happy person, but her baby is just so … cold. He doesn't smile and he doesn't hug you like other twenty-month-olds would. He plays and he's starting to talk and everything, but he …" Becky drew another shuddering breath. "You can tell he doesn't _love_ anybody. Not even my mom, who's been taking care of him since he was born."

Fred nodded at Becky and opened her mouth to ask something else, but the girl waved us off. "I have to get back to work. But you'll look into this?"

"Sure we will," Fred assured her, an encouraging tone in her voice. "We'll let you know if we find anythin'."

"Thank you," Becky nodded, and giving us one more wet smile, slipped from the room.

"Garrett sounds less crazy now, doesn't he?" I asked Fred with a grin, watching her face as she lit up and chuckled a bit.

"Oh, he still sounds crazy," she assured me, poking her head out the door to make sure the coast was clear before we left. "But anyone sounds crazy when the world around them has gone psycho."

Keeping step with Fred as we left the hospital, I pointed out, "It sounds like you're speaking from experience there."

"Jasmine," she whispered with a nod.

"Who?"

"Oh," Fred replied with a self-conscious little laugh. "I suppose you wouldn't remember her. No one does. She tried to take over everything, and Angel and I stopped her. We ended world peace."

It took me a moment to wrap my brain around that one. They stopped someone from taking over the world? "So no one remembers this?" I asked her, just to be clear.

"Not a one," she replied, "part of our deal with Wolfram and Hart. Well, Angel remembers."

"Sucky. At least when I save the world," I laughed, "someone _knows_ about it."

"Yeah," she laughed, her bright smile returning. "I guess they do."

We walked in companionable silence out to the car, until my phone rang. Checking it out, I saw it was Renee calling, and I smiled fondly at her name on the screen. "I should take this," I told Fred, looking up to make sure she didn't mind.

"Go ahead," Fred nodded. "I'm gonna duck in City Hall over there," she pointed down the block to a short brick building, "and check out the birth certificates."

"Okay," I agreed before turning away from her and taking the call. "Hey, Renee. How's it going?" The words of our last fight before I left rang in my ears and I hoped she'd cooled off by now.

"Xan," she started, sighing loudly. "I thought you'd still be here when I got back from Spain."

"Yeah, sorry about that," I replied, ducking my head a little in shame. "Something came up and the vamps needed my help."

"But, you hate them," she pointed out, and I remembered complaining to Renee several times about something one or both of them had done to make my life worse that day.

"Hate is such a strong word, Renee," I said, trying to keep my tone light and the conversation from going where I thought it might be going. "I'd say 'strongly dislike' instead. And by the way, _I'm fine. How are you_?"

Sighing, Renee took a moment before blurting out, "I'm leaving, Xan."

"Leaving?" I asked, feeling my stomach drop to my shoes painfully. This couldn't … "You mean, for a few days?"

"No," she insisted. "I took a position at the Tokyo office. I'm leaving in the morning."

The first question from my lips was, "Why?" Renee had been in Scotland since just after we got everything set up. She'd been one of the first girls Faith collected. And she told me so many times how much she loved it there. How much she cared for me. And this was it. If she went, we were over.

"You know why," Renee replied. "Maybe under different circumstances, things would have been different."

I knew why? I could barely wrap my brain around what was going on in my head. How was I supposed to know what she was thinking? "Is this about that last fight we had?" I asked, remembering how she'd disobeyed an order I'd given when she was in the field, and how strained that made things between us when she got back.

"What else would it be about?" she sighed, and I wished I could see her face. I wished I could know if she looked as horrible as I felt, my insides all churning together in a big, messy tangle of loss. "We can't work together, Xan. Not since we slept together. Not since you ordered me to fall back. You weren't there! You didn't see those poor people half-dead and about to be all-dead."

"So your solution is to move halfway around the world?" I asked her, refusing to even consider the fact that I'd been wrong in that order. Looking at the big picture, it had seemed like the best decision at the time. I mean, how could we take down that demon and his minions if all our slayers got killed? If Renee got killed?

"I guess so," Renee replied softly. "I wanted to tell you in person, but you left."

"Sorry," I mumbled, but I wasn't quite sure I felt the apology.

"Me too," she replied, and I could tell that she was crying. I couldn't decide whether knowing she was crying made me feel better, because that meant she did care for me, or worse, because I couldn't stand hearing her cry over the phone, and being unable to comfort her in person.

"So, you're leaving in the morning?" I asked her. "You can't wait until I get back?"

"I'm escorting an informant," she told me with another sigh, "and they need his help in Tokyo, like yesterday."

"Alright," I nodded, needing this painful conversation to end. "I have to go. But I'll talk to you again?"

"Maybe eventually," Renee replied, and those two words told me it really was over. And not because we weren't good together, but because I was a Watcher and she was a Slayer and we just weren't cut out to work together if we were seeing each other. I still wished that she wouldn't have felt like she had to leave. We would have gotten past it, right? It's not like we'd even been together that long. "Goodbye, Xander."

"Bye, Renee," I replied, full of the sickening feeling that I'd done something wrong and I had no idea how I would have done any different. The line went dead, and I couldn't help but just hold my phone and stare at it for a moment.

And that's what made this day the worst day of the trip.

* * *

Spike didn't wake from his completely-still sleep until mid-morning, after Fred had been to the butcher for me, quietly knocking on the door to hand over a few containers of blood and to tell me about her plans to go with Xander and check things out. I thanked her, stowed the blood in the tiny refrigerator in our room, and went back to bed, still exhausted. Stupidly, I had spent most of the night watching over him, instead of sleeping. Not that I managed to fall asleep again once Fred left, but it was nice to think maybe I could.

When Spike finally stirred, rubbing his face against his pillow as if to shut out consciousness for just a little while longer, I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, so he wouldn't make a big deal over it. Beside me, I felt Spike turn over, flopping onto his back carelessly in a way that shook the whole bed. He stretched and yawned and smacked his lips together, all the normal waking up noises he always made. And then he spoke, his voice low and tinged with humor. "Know you're awake, luv."

Sighing, I opened my eyes, to see him watching me with one eyebrow raised at me in a way that made me smile. "What gave it away?" I asked him.

"When you're really sleeping," Spike told me, stretching again and turning to face me, "you breathe, Ange."

He's told me this before, several times actually, and I think it meant something to him. That only he would notice this little sign of my humanity I still had left. That it was one of the things he loved about me. "I take it I wasn't then?"

"Nope," Spike replied, taking my arm and lifting it behind him so he could wrap himself around me. "When did you get back?"

"I wasn't out long," I assured him, hugging Spike closer. "But you were dead to the world."

Chuckling in that low voice, he replied, "Always dead to the world, pet. Kinda thought you knew this by now."

Scoffing at his smart-ass comment, I said, "Fred bought us more blood. And I got that scotch and the food you asked for."

"Brilliant," he sighed, but stayed right where he was, wrapped around me. Though, I can't say that I minded.

After a few silent moments, just being together, Spike asked, "Did you call Scotland?" and I knew he was asking about Buffy, not the whole of Slayer Central.

"Yeah, I talked to her," I replied carefully, meeting his eyes briefly when he looked over at me.

"And?" he asked, like he wasn't looking forward to having to pry the information from me.

"And what?" I replied, put off a little by his prodding.

Propping himself up on one arm, but leaving the other trailing across my chest as if to comfort me, Spike gave me a long expectant look.

"I just told her where we were," I sighed. "She told me to take care of you. That she misses us. To stay out of trouble."

"Well, then," he nodded, giving me another long look before sighing. "What's wrong, luv?" Soothing fingertips found my forehead, my temples, the side of my neck and my shoulder, roving over and calming me.

"Just the same thoughts as always," I admitted, almost sheepishly. Never before Spike did I have someone to share my life with, and it took a lot of getting used to. His constant presence and concern. The way he could read me and feel what I was feeling and wash it away, almost like magic.

"About her?"

"Yeah," I told him, looking up and letting him bend down to place a soft kiss on my lips.

"Ange," he whispered, breathing me in, "we're just waiting for you to be ready."

"And what if I'm never ready?" I asked him, pushing Spike away by the shoulder so I could sit up to face him. "What if I decide the past should be the past I should move on?"

Sighing and looking down at his hands, Spike said, "I can't say I wouldn't be disappointed. I can't say it wouldn't break my soddin' heart. But I would understand, luv," he insisted. "I would still love you, just as much. I'm with you, always."

"I know," I replied, looking away. We'd had this conversation so many times, that I knew where it was headed before we got there. Both of us said the same things, took the same steps every time, knowing the dance by heart. But every time Spike said he'd still love me, every time he insisted he would stick with me, no matter what, it calmed my fears and made me think maybe. Just maybe.

When I looked back, Spike smiled at me, almost a smirk, and I couldn't help return the expression. All of a sudden, all the tension drained out of the room, and we were just _us_ again. See? Like magic.

"So," he began, shifting to get out of bed, "stuck here all day, are we?" Rummaging around, he found the bottle of liquor and the blood, pouring them both into a glass before popping the concoction into the microwave above the refrigerator.

"Yes," I replied, wrinkling my nose at the way he ruined both drinks by mixing them together. Though, he'd say pig's blood was already ruined just as a consequence of being what it was.

"How should we keep ourselves busy, luv?" he asked, a few ideas plain on his face. Ideas I knew I would agree to, no matter what they were.

* * *

  
Later that afternoon, Fred called the second time and told us she and Xander were coming back to the inn with information and expected to get our help. So, I prodded Spike into taking a shower and getting dressed before they got there.

Soon enough, I answered the knock at the door, letting Fred and Xander into our room and straightening a few things out at the last moment, looking back to double check that Spike had made the bed like I'd asked him to. It was sloppy, but done, and I supposed it was the best I would get out of him. At least it was better than leaving them all rumpled as the evidence of what we'd been doing for most of the day.

The four of us gathered around the room's small round table, pulling up the extra chairs the humans had dragged over from their room. As we sat down and faced one another, I noticed that they both seemed more subdued than I expected, Fred especially. When I'd seen her that morning, she'd been bright and cheerful after a full night's sleep. Looking to Spike, he met my eyes and nodded, telling me he'd noticed the odd mood too.

"Alright," Spike relented, speaking first, "what happened, then? And please don't tell me it's another apocalypse. Barely got through the last two."

"No," Fred replied, shifting in her seat and stealing a glance at Xander, who looked like he was trying to act like his normal self, but was having a hard time of it. "Nothing like that."

"So?" I asked her harshly, wondering what could possibly have happened. "You said something about a baby when you called earlier."

Sighing, Fred pulled a notebook from her purse and spread it out in front of her. "In the past three years, fifteen women have gotten pregnant without knowing how it happened. And those are the ones who we heard about. And of the forty-three babies born here in that time period," she explained, flipping the pages of her notebook to list of names that she showed me, "fourteen mothers have died in or shortly after childbirth, six of whom didn't list a father on the birth certificate."

"That's a lot, then?" Spike asked her, leaning towards me supposedly so he could see the list, but also so he could lay a teasing hand on my upper thigh. I shifted under his touch, but decided it was easier just to let him have his way than to complain about the hand in front of the other.

"Even during the middle ages, that would be a lot," Fred replied to Spike's question. "Something weird is definitely going on here."

"So, dead mums and all? That's ever so sad," Spike pointed out, "but why does the boy wonder look like someone ran over his puppy?"

"It's none of your business," Xander snapped back at him, eye blazing now with fury. I caught Fred's eye, wondering what Xander had told her, and she mouthed to me, "Renee," while he and Spike stared daggers at one another. Oh, Buffy had told us, never being one to avoid gossip, that Xander and a slayer named Renee were dating. I guess not any more.

To get Spike to knock off the staring contest, I back-handed his arm before picking up the list and asking, "Do you have any idea what these women might have in common?"

"No," Fred replied, giving me a grateful look for changing the topic. "But I thought I'd send the list to Willow's computer people and have them dredge up all the records on these women they can find, legally acquired or not."

"Look at you, pet," Spike smiled, settling back in his chair and setting his hand as an invitation for me to hold it. "I had a suspicion you were the real brains behind Angel Investigations."

"Hey," I complained, laughing at the bright, teasing smile my boyfriend gave me. Grabbing his hand, I agreed, "Okay, you're right. Good work, Fred. Xander. Let's call Scotland and bring them up to speed."

A few hours in to working the problem, when I could feel the sun start to dip down toward the horizon, Fred pulled up a picture she'd found of one of the children. She was a girl named Haley, almost three years old, with big bright eyes and a toothy grin. Fred smiled at the picture, showing it to the rest of us like she had with several others, when Spike's mouth dropped open quickly before he clenched it shut.

"What is it, _cor_?" I asked him. "Have you seen her before?"

"I think she was in one of my visions," he nodded, pulling the computer screen closer so he could get a better look. "But there were so many visions of so many things…" Spike's voice trailed off as he ran a finger across the picture. "There was a fire."

Flipping through a few pages, Fred told us, "There's no mention of any fires where children were involved."

"Not yet, duck," Spike whispered in reply, eyes still glued to the screen. "Not yet."

I hoped that Spike was right about this girl being in his visions, since this was the only lead we had, the only reason Fred and Xander had found for us to be here in New Hampshire. And even as hesitant as I was about Buffy, I had to agree with Spike when he said it was better to be near her, to know her, even if it was painful. So, even though I had spent years away from her before, after just four days away, I missed her and itched to get back home, back where we belonged.

"Okay," Xander said, drawing our attention as he came back into the room after speaking to Willow in the privacy of our bathroom. While he was gone, getting a pep talk, it sounded like, Fred told us as much as she knew about what had happened between Xander and his slayer. And it wasn't great. But now, still holding the phone to his ear, Xander related the information Willow must have been feeding him. "The women who died all went to the same grocery store, the same barber, the same dry cleaners, the same diner and the same car wash. They didn't go to the same churches, they weren't alums of the same school, and they weren't all born here."

"So," I said, "I guess we check out the places they _did_ have in common."

"Well, the dry cleaners and the car wash are both closed already," Xander told me. "The barber closes in about an hour, followed by the store and then the diner."

"I guess we check 'em out in that order then, hmm?" Fred asked, giving Xander a smile I knew was supposed to be encouraging. Surprisingly, it seemed to work, the boy's face growing brighter as he returned the smile. Huh.

* * *

_A/N: What did you think of the Xander POV? I thought it might be nice to see his side of things, especially for that conversation. Reviews very much appreciated, please!_

_And thanks for reading :)  
_


	6. They Might Be Demons

Legacy Chapter 6 - They Might Be Demons

The boys and I found ourselves outside the hairdresser's salon just twenty minutes before it was supposed to close. "I don't know, you guys," I said, peeking in one window and glancing around the tiny waiting room and the one-chair salon floor beyond. "It's pretty small. I don't think we should all stumble in there demanding answers."

"Why not?" Angel asked me, earning a backhand to the arm from Spike.

"'Cause we need to be more subtle. Can't go around claimin' the town is full of alien babies, now can we, luv? No one would talk to us, that rumor got around." I nodded in agreement and looked to Xander for support, but he was staring off into the distance, not really paying attention.

"So who goes in?" I asked them, looking to Angel for some leadership, out of habit more than anything else.

Spike took another look in the window, and declared, "Ange and I'll take this one. Got a feelin', yeah?"

"Great," Angel agreed. "While we check this out, will you two look into the diner? We'll meet you there in a few minutes."

"Sounds like a plan," I nodded, tapping Xander on the arm to break him out of his thoughts. "You comin'?" I said gently, leading him away from the vamps.

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat as we walked. "Yeah, I'm with you."

"Great!" I smiled, checking over my shoulder just once to see Spike and Angel arguing over a pair of sunglasses of all things. "What's our cover this time?" I asked Xander, trying to rekindle the camaraderie we'd been able to establish earlier in the day. Xander smiled softly and shrugged, like he appreciated my offer, but didn't feel like playing along. So I let him be.

As we walked the few blocks toward the diner – the same Cherry's Diner that our comic book friend mentioned – it grew more and more difficult to keep Illyria under wraps. Finally, I just gave in, because most of the time when she did that, she just wanted to say something or know something or do something harmless. It was easier to just give in to her.

"Human," Illyria said roughly to get Xander's attention.

"Demon," Xander replied in the same tone, just a beat later. Oddly, I felt how Xander's reply surprised Illyria, making her back off for a long moment. It didn't dissuade her entirely, though.

Cocking our head to look at the man, Illyria continued, "Your demeanor has changed rapidly. I wish to understand why."

Xander chuckled ruefully. "Guess it's difficult to understand heartbreak when you don't have a heart."

"This body contains an organ named 'the heart'," Illyria replied, touching three fingers to our sternum in demonstration. I tried to get her to cut it out, but she seemed hell-bent on getting answers from Xander, and not from me. Straight from the horse's mouth, I guess.

"No," Xander laughed, shaking his head. "It's like talking to Spock, here." Sighing as Illyria kept giving him a look demanding he explain, the man continued, "I cared about someone and now she doesn't want to be in my life anymore. It hurts."

"You are speaking about _grief_," Illyria insisted, like Xander was the one in the wrong, calling himself heartbroken. "This is an emotion I have become very familiar with in the past six months."

"You actually feel emotions?" Xander asked, incredulous.

"Of course not," she protested, a bit too much. "Emotions are a human weakness. I have been reading," that fact was news to _me_, "and have discovered that all of man's greatest follies begin with emotion. I was not surprised."

"Great, let's fit you for a pair of pointy ears, then," Xander suggested as we reached the diner, hesitating like he didn't want to lead Illyria into the establishment. "Send you out where no man has gone before."

"That would be pleasant," she replied, fighting me as I tried to push myself back up to the surface. "I find that this place is quite overrun with humans. In the days of my finest glory, there were many places where man would dare not venture, trembling under the magnificence of their betters."

"I'm shakin' in my boots," Xander replied with a sigh. "And hey, Illyria. Can I ask you something?"

"You have been most capable of asking questions in the past," she pointed out, more glibly than I thought her capable.

"Oh. Ha, ha," he sarcastically shot back before taking a deep breath. "If you don't feel emotions, how do you know so much about grief?"

"The grief my shell has exposed me to as a consequence of sharing one mind with her is almost overwhelming in its power," she confessed, almost embarrassed that I had such an effect on her. If she could feel embarrassed, that is. "Fred mourns a human named Wesley."

"Yeah, I knew him," Xander replied. "Sounds like he turned out alright. Sorry he died."

"I did not know the man, but Fred has many fond memories of him."

"She loved him?" Xander asked, much to my mortification. To keep Illyria from answering, I fought against her twice as hard, pushing and pulling and trying to get my rightful place back. But she just wouldn't let go.

"She claims to have loved Wesley," Illyria told Xander, tilting our head again to better want his reaction to this news. "However, I would not know how to evaluate an emotion as nebulous as what you call love."

"What would _you_ call it, Illyria?" Xander asked her, the curiosity plainly evident on his face.

"Foolishness. Attachment out of fear's sake. Bonds created because you tell yourselves no one has to be alone, when in reality, to be sentient is to be alone. Your species has never appreciated this simple fact."

"Maybe we do appreciate it," the man sighed, leaning against the window of the diner and watching a car rumble down the narrow main street past us. "Maybe we appreciate it so well that we can't help but want to believe it's not true. That it's too damn depressing to be true."

"I do not understand depression, either."

"Lyrie?" Xander asked, looking into our eyes and flinching a little at what he found there. "Can you let Fred back? We're here for a reason, not to chit chat all night."

There it was again. Xander caller her Lyrie, like he wasn't afraid of her any more. Oh, he knew full well what Illyria and I had become capable, and it had scared him at the beginning of the summer. But I suppose Xander has had to get used to so many scary things in his life, just like I have, that getting used to them gets easier and easier every time. Riding those thoughts to the surface, I managed to smile and apologize, "Sorry 'bout that, Xander. I was trying to stop her."

"I know," he smiled, glad to have me back in the driver's seat of my own body, and led the way into the diner.

We took a seat at the counter, taking a look around as the lone waitress waved to us and called, "Be right with you!"

"Thanks," Xander smiled, taking a look around.

I followed suit, but everything looked pretty normal to me. Same brown coffee mugs you see in any diner, same heavy plates and scratched flatware. Same clock over the kitchen window and same twenty-year-old cash register. Same regular people having a late dinner or coffee. Same teenagers in the back daring each other to eat sugar packets, paper and all. It didn't feel wrong.

"Is it just me," Xander asked, "or is this place a little too perfect?"

Noticing how the countertop was stained with coffee rings and the men at the booth near the window kept teasing the waitress, I had to say, "No. It's just perfect enough. Kinda reminds me of home, actually."

"Really?" he asked, looking around again. "I guess growing up in Sunnydale gives you a skewed point of view."

"How so?"

He laughed a little, the first real laugh I'd heard from him since Renee had called. "If anything was ever this _safe_ in Sunnydale? You knew something big was gonna go down. Werewolf attack or demon possession, or robot dad."

"Robot dad?" I laughed. "Did that actually happen to you?"

"Buffy," he corrected. "Ask her about it sometime! Man, that guy made good cookies. Drugged, but _good_."

I laughed and watched the waitress approach, hoping Xander was starting to feel better, and not just putting on a brave face for little old me.

* * *

Angel and I approached door of the hair salon together, peeking in windows again to check it out. There was one man way in the back of the front room, attending to the implements of his trade. Maybe this was nothing, but I knew being here made me feel _something_. And seeing that little girl's picture had given me the strangest feeling of déjà vu, and somehow that made me feel justified, like the cross-country drive I'd subjected Angel and Fred – and yes, alright, Xander – to hadn't been a complete waste of time. Like I'd actually been able to suss out what the Powers were trying to tell me.

Then, I stopped short before opening the barber's door, whispering to Angel, "Mirrors."

"Fuck," he replied, peering through the window as I did, the bloody big mirror at the back of the shop glaring at us. "I guess we can't go in. Let's call Fred back."

"We can," I said, slowly coming up with a plan. "There's really only the one." Taking my shades out of my coat pocket, I said, "Here, put these on."

Giving me a skeptical look at the darkened sky, Angel asked, "Why do you even _own_ a pair of sunglasses?"

"Because they look cool, prat," I huffed. "Just put them on and wait out here in sight until I come get you."

"This is fucking ridiculous," Angel replied, but he donned them, and I nodded in approval before heading into the shop.

"Hullo," I greeted the man sweeping up, stepping forward and leaning casually on the counter between the door and the salon chair. Something about the sound of his broom swishing across the floor tickled my bloody brain, and I tilted my head at the feeling. Had this been part of the visions as well? Was this man the one putting all the ladies in a family way? Was it his children killing their mothers? Was he some evil fiend bent on a nefarious purpose? Best have my guard up, then, even if I wouldn't look it.

"Hey, there, gorgeous," the man replied when he turned to me, and I took a second to get a good look at him. His mop of medium brown curls was arranged artfully on top of his head, above an unexpectedly handsome face, and under a black apron, his blue shirt and tight white jeans left almost nothing to the imagination. "What can I do for you?" he asked, shooting me a flirtatious smile. Huh. Maybe this _wasn't_ the guy we were looking for. Or maybe this man was just the cover for someone else, running things from the back.

"Are you the only one here?" I asked him, using my voice to convey interest, to keep his eyes on me, and not on my lack of a reflection in the mirror behind him.

Smiling, the man set his broom against the wall and came up to the opposite side of the counter, leaning forward, "Just me here, sugar."

"Good," I smiled back. "Look," letting my eyes drop and playing my fingers over the counter for effect, I said, "here's the thing, luv –"

Brushing my fingers with his, the man cut me off, "Love the accent."

"Alright," I nodded, pulling my hand away. "But, see," I pointed over my shoulder with a thumb to where I could feel Angel glaring at my back, "my guy's just out there. Now, I love him dearly, but he's from LA and a bit of a diva. So, I was wondering if you'd take an odd request."

"How odd are we talking?" the guy replied, giving Angel a good long look. Glancing back, I saw that he had been frowning at me, but now looked away, like he didn't want me to catch him at it.

"He hates his reflection," I explained, "but as you can see, his coif is in dire need of some attention."

The man hummed in agreement, and I took that opportunity to breathe in, to really get a sense of him, and something was off. He didn't quite smell human, though he was taking great pains to try. Huh, maybe this _was_ the guy we were looking for. "So what's your request? And," he leered at me with a smile, "what are you gonna do to make it worth my while?"

"Oh, pet," I played along for him, shaking my head, "how tempting you are. But my boyfriend would _literally_ kill me, so you'll have to make do with a monetary reward." I slipped a hundred bucks out of my pocket and pushed it across the counter to him. "All I need you to do is cover up the mirror back there and keep any hand mirrors out of sight."

"For a hundred bucks?" he asked me, slipping the cash into the pocket of his apron. "No problemo."

"Great. I'll be right back." Slipping out the door, I met Angel with a bright smile.

"What the hell was that?" he growled, and I found it almost disconcerting being unable to read his eyes with the sunglasses in the way.

"Oh, sod off, you jealous lout," I replied, kissing him quickly. "Just an act, luv. Besides, there's something weird about this guy."

"The fact that he acts and dresses like that, but we think he might be involved in impregnating dozens of women with killer alien babies?" Angel let this all roll off his tongue though his voice told me he knew how bollocks'd up it sounded. I reckon he'd gotten used to these scenarios over the past decade or so, especially since starting that detective agency of his.

"Well, yeah," I agreed, watching through the window as the hairdresser covered his mirror with one of those smocks that keep hair off of the customer's clothes. "But he doesn't smell right. You'll see."

And so I led Angel into the shop by the hand, passing him off to the hairdresser. "I'm Spike," I told the man, "and _this_ is Angel."

"Pretty name for such a pretty man," the hairdresser replied, sitting my boyfriend down in the chair and covering him with another smock. "I'm Josh."

"Yeah, thanks," Angel replied harshly, taking off the glasses and handing them back to me. "Here."

"Now, now, luv," I scolded him, leaning against the wall next to the covered mirror so I could gleefully watch Angel squirm, "this won't take but a few moments." Getting the barber's attention, I told him, "Just clean it up a bit, you know? Make it look less poncey."

"Wait," Angel said, looking up at me with a little bit of fear in his eyes, "you're actually letting him cut my hair?"

"That's what we're here for, Angel," I replied, feeling a grin stretch my face merrily. "Just sit back and relax."

Grumbling, Angel settled in the chair, shooting me the evil eye and saying, "You'll pay for this when we get back to the hotel."

"I'm sure I will," I agreed, giving Josh an exasperated smile that said Angel's threats were nothing new. "But I'm the one has to look at you all the time, so keep that in mind, lest you stalk out of here half done."

Cringing up at Josh as the man started spritzing down and combing out his hair, Angel whinged, "Just don't take too much off. My hair grows _very_ slowly."

"Alright, sweetie. I'll be gentle." The hairdresser smiled up at me, like he knew what I was going through being with Angel. Hell, maybe he did.

"So, you boys are from out of town, then?"

"Yeah," I replied, trying not to laugh at the way Angel shied away from the hairdresser's scissors. "We're from LA most recently, like I mentioned."

"Ah, Hollywood," he nodded, putting Angel's head back into position with a strong hand and trimming a lock of it before he could get away again. "Do you like it there?"

"Never liked it there," I confessed, " 'specially since we got kicked out of the city." I shook my head before explaining, "On our way back to the mother country."

"And you just happened to stop off here, in the middle of nowhere?" The snipping sound of Josh's scissors tickled my brain, like I was trying to remember something, or like there was a word on the tip on my tongue and I just couldn't spit it out.

Realizing that the barber was waiting for an answer and making things up as I went, I said, "Angel's got family in town. Thought we'd stop by and shake 'em up a bit 'fore we left."

"Shake 'em up? Oh, honey," Josh scolded Angel. "Are you still in the closet?"

"In the …" Angel said, looking up at me with that confused look of his. "What?"

"Not exactly," I said, mixing some truth with the lies. "But his family didn't know we were back together."

"Why not? Angel, how could you be ashamed to tell everyone about this wonderful man?"

Chuckling ruefully, Angel replied, "You've known him for five minutes. You don't know what an idiot Spike can be."

"Oh, now why would you say a thing like that?"he scolded with a tutting cluck of his tongue.

"You should hear what _he_ calls _me_," Angel shot back, smiling slightly when I laughed.

Murmuring in appreciation, Josh replied, "Is that an invitation?"

Shifting uncomfortably at the suggestion in the barber's voice and his smile disappearing, Angel insisted, "It's really not."

"Mate? Have you a loo I could use?" I asked Josh, wanting to take the opportunity to poke around a bit. As fun as it was watching Angel get accosted by a flamboyant man with scissors, I had a job to do. Especially since I wasn't sure if or when the visions would return, and I figured: get the mission done, they've got no more reason to torture me. Yeah?

"Sure," he replied, giving me another flirtatious smile. "It's back there." He pointed to a curtained doorway with his comb, and I slipped into the back, noting the bathroom directly to the left. On my way past, I closed the door from the outside to corroborate my ruse as I continued to poke around.

There actually wasn't much to the back room. A few cases of various products, a water heater, and a rickety table with one chair. I sniffed around a bit, but couldn't find anything suspicious, so I went back toward the front, stopping in the bathroom to flush the toilet and run the sink, finding nothing in there either. Maybe we were wrong about this guy. But then, why did he smell so odd? And why had his broom given me that little twinge of déjà vu, just like the picture of that lass?

In the front room, Angel stared daggers at me for leaving him alone at the hairdresser's mercy. "What took you so long?"

"Sorry. Got distracted thinking 'bout your mum." I leered at him with a smile, laughing when my boyfriend pulled a disgusted face.

The hairdresser laughed with me and said, "Well it makes me feel better knowing that you can give as good as you can take, gorgeous."

"Oh, I can give plenty well," I replied, having a little fun by adding as much suggestion to the words as I could. "Isn't that right, Peaches?"

"I'm _not_ discussing this here."

"Spoilsport." I smiled, but Angel gave me the look he gets when I really am in trouble, all pursed lips and furrowed eyebrows. Fuck. "Fine. I'm shutting up, luv."

"Thank you."

Looking at me once more, Josh hummed and said, "Alright. I think we're just about finished here. Now, I've cut it so you'll barely need to use any product. Just a little bit in front here, okay, sweetie?"

Angel nodded, frowning at the bright smile I gave him at the news that he wouldn't need so much poncey hair gel anymore. "I should make you sit here next," he threatened me, "see how you like it."

"I'm actually closing for the night," Josh said, taking Angel's smock and using a big brush to clear off the little trimmings of hair left behind. "But I'd love to see you if you'd like to come back tomorrow, Spike."

"I might just, that," I nodded, handing the sunglasses back to Angel and giving him a look until he put them back on. "You look smashing, luv. Quite posh."

"You pay," he said, brushing past me and out the door, pacing outside and trying not to touch his hair with his hands. It made me smile.

"How much do I owe ya?" I asked Josh, returning to the other side of the counter, putting that division of purveyor and customer between us.

"Oh, don't worry about it," he shook his head, leaning in across the counter to speak quietly. "But if you did want to show up tomorrow without Mr. Tall and Dark, I'd love to see you."

"Anything's possible," I whispered back with a smile, slipping out the door without looking back. "Let's go, Ange," I said, grabbing his hand and leading him down the street to where Fred and Xander were waiting for us at the diner. "So what did you think?"

"Does it look okay?" he asked, frowning and pulling on his hair a little.

"It did until you started touching it," I said, batting his hands away. "It's very handsome, and not very different, really. I'm starting to think that guy's the real deal."

"What? As a barber, or as a gay guy?"

Chuckling, I said, "Both. Did he bother you?"

"Just," he sighed. "I hate seeing you flirt with other people."

Pulling him into a hug, I kissed Angel and said, "It was all for show, nothing more."

"You were right, though."

"'Bout what?"

"He didn't smell human," he decided with a frown. "I couldn't quite place it. Demon, maybe?"

"Maybe. D'you think he knew what we are?"

Shaking his head, Angel replied, "I don't think so. You certainly kept him distracted."

"What can I say? I'm a distracting bloke."

"You're _my_ distracting bloke," he snarled, grabbing my collar and pulling me into another kiss. Which turned into another and another, until a loud rapping on the window next to my ear interrupted us.

"Really, guys?" Xander scolded through the diner window. "You didn't get enough of this earlier?"

"It's never enough," I muttered, wiping my mouth and trying not to think about all the ways I could kill Buffy's best friend. We joined them in the diner, which was emptying out quickly due to the hour, and took a private, but far from isolated, booth for the four of us.

"Did you find anything?" Angel asked them, turning in his seat to look at the boy, who was first to open his mouth.

"Nada. We talked to the waitress a bit, but she wasn't much help. You?"

"Maybe," I told them. "He didn't quite smell human. Though the chances the barber's our culprit appear slim, yeah?"

"How slim?" Fred asked, turning her critical eye on me and I wondered if she wanted a concrete probability or some such.

"Let's just say, he doesn't seem overly fond of the ladies."

"And you know this…?"

"It was fairly obvious, Fred," Angel told her, picking up his water and taking a swig to hide the tiny blush of embarrassment that crept onto his cheeks.

"Might go back tomorrow," I suggested. "Take another look around. Ask the man a few more questions."

"Did he say something after I left?" my partner asked me. "While you were paying?"

"Don't know what you're talking about, luv," I tried brushing his words aside. Or trying to. Ratcheting up the jealous face, Angel glared at me, his frown deepening with every second.

"Fine, he propositioned me, alright? I figured best just to play along until we've gotten all the information we need from him, no big to do about it."

"Never knew you were so popular with the guys, Spike," Xander chuckled at me.

"Well you can't be as attractive as I am and expect not to get any attention, mate," I explained, Angel getting enraged beside me until I grabbed his hand under the table, squeezing tightly. "Don't worry Harris, with that face, you'd never know how difficult it is to be beautiful."

Angel laughed at the boy's expense, his anger melting away as he covered his mouth quickly and shot Xander an apologetic shrug. To my great amusement, Xander just huffed and sat back, looking to Fred for some sort of moral support. Unfortunately for him, the lass was hiding her giggles behind an apologetic hand as well. Quickly, she pat Xander's shoulder to reassure the whelp, but her smile was far from fading. If it had been anyone butXander, I might not have poked fun so soon after him getting the boot from his lady. But this was Harris, and the opportunity was just too good to pass up.

Then, breaking the mood as always, Angel leaned past me to look out the window, at a figure rapidly melting away into the darkness as it walked away from the diner. "You smell that?" he asked me, getting up and following the bloke from the diner.

"What?" I asked as I bounced up to follow him, Fred and Xander shortly behind us. Taking a big whiff, I recognized, "Lohgar demon?"

"Yeah," Angel replied, hurrying his steps so much so that I almost had to jog to keep up. Bloody long-legged git.

"Sometimes cause trouble, sometimes don't," I told him, remembering this one Lohgar I knew, Ben. Good bloke. Would steal the shirt off your back, but otherwise a solid character.

"Since he appears to be running," Xander pointed out, keeping his voice low as we moved into the relatively silent streets of a small town at night, "I'd bet on trouble."

Angel pointed for me and the others to keep following, while he ducked into an alley and started to run. Knowing he would want to play the dramatic hero, stopping the villain in his tracks, I made enough of a show of running after the demon that he would panic. Fred and Xander chasing behind, I drove the Lohgar straight into Angel's waiting arms as he stepped out from beside a building and into the demon's path.

"Hi there," my boyfriend said to the demon, gripping him tightly by one upper arm and pulling a flesh-toned mask from his head, reveling something entirely inhuman underneath. "Wanna tell us what you're doing in a town like this?"

"Aw, man!" the demon whinged, eyes darting toward the mask Angel had removed, body trembling as I stepped next to Angel so I could see the demon's face. He looked fucking terrified, yeah? His fishy skin was weeping more than they normally do and he kept blinking all three sets of eye lids over his big-pupiled eyes. Even his gills heaved as he almost hyperventilated in Angel's grip. "I didn't do it! I swear."

"What didn't you do, mate?" I asked, grinning just enough to show my eye teeth. Soddin' demon just about wet his pants at that one.

"I don't know!" the Lohgar responded. "But whatever happened, man. I didn't do it. I don't need any more trouble from vamps."

"There were other vampires here?" Angel asked, checking with me. I shrugged in reply. I hadn't noticed hide nor hair of any other blood suckers in this tiny town. "When?"

"Must've been ten years ago," the demon replied. "And I swore, I'd never let myself even be in a room with another vamp again!"

"Which is why you ran," Xander filled in for him. "Wasn't it, Speedy Gonzales?"

"Hey!" the demon smiled, his gills rippling as he tried to crane his neck back to look at the boy. "I love that cartoon!"

"What's your name?" Angel asked him, giving the demon a little shake to get his attention.

"Neil," he replied. "Neil Goldstein."

"Well, Neil," Angel sighed, frowning at the slime weeping from Neal's flat nostrils, "we've got some questions, so you're coming with us."

"Back to the hotel?" Fred asked him. "How in the holy heck is that gonna work? Helen is very nosy."

"Well, it's better than standing out here in the street all night, waiting for someone to call the sheriff. Here," he said, passing he demon to me. "Keep an eye on Neil. I'll go get the car."

Gripping the demon's arm so he knew I wouldn't let him away easily, I asked, "Why is it that I _never_ get to drive, Angelus?"

"Because I say so," Angel shot back, jogging back toward the main street where we'd parked the car.

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_I tried to get back to the humor some more in this chapter, but I had to leave a good portion of angst in. Of course. _

_Review please! I'm hardly getting any reviews, and I hope it's just because you guys have nothing bad to say. At least a few of you are still reading, and I'd love to hear from you!  
_


	7. Asking for Leads

_A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry about the delay. I've had writer's block and was traveling this last week. But, here we go. Back on track with another chapter. There should be two more chapters after this, and we'll see how it goes._

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Legacy Chapter 7 - Asking for Leads

Spike and Angel managed to wrestle the demon, Neil, back into the bed and breakfast while Fred and I distracted the owner, Helen. We stood in front of her desk, asking about random brochures she had out and making idle chit-chat.

Just a minute into the pleasantries, Helen beamed with a grin, "My, you two make such a handsome couple!" while Fred and I shared a look.

I shrugged and decided to just go along with it, saying, "Thanks, Helen."

"Did you two have a nice time today?" She said, changing the subject with a knowing wink. "I heard you've been all over town."

"You did, huh?" Fred replied, a look of concern flashing across her face quickly as she met my eye, before she replaced it with a bright smile.

"Did you like Cherry's?" the woman asked us. "Please tell me you tried the boysenberry pie."

"Oh, we did," I nodded, remembering the warm dessert, covered in vanilla ice cream. It had been a nice diversion for the two minutes until I'd finished it off, making my tongue happy. However, my stomach wasn't so pleased that I hadn't had any dinner beforehand.

"And Garrett says you might come by his shop again tomorrow?" A loud thump and a muffled curse floated down from upstairs, drawing Helen's attention to Angel and Spike's presence in the building.

"Helen," Fred exclaimed, touching the woman's arm lightly to get her attention back on us. "Do you know _everyone_ in this town?"

Smiling back at us, the noise forgotten for the moment, she replied, "Almost. 'Bout the only thing to do in a small town like this is socialize."

"You socialize with the best of them, don't you, Helen?" I observed with a smile, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief when the vamps' door closed above us, signaling their success.

"Oh, you're too kind," the woman scoffed, waving as I drew Fred away and towards the stairs with one arm on her shoulder.

Saying goodnight, Fred and I mounted the stairs, heading straight for room Seven. Fred knocked twice before opening the door and slipping in, while I followed shortly behind. When had I gotten so used to this cloak-and-dagger stuff? It took a long time after joining Buffy's team, I think. But I got better and better. Shut up! I did!

In the main area of Spike and Angel's room, the blond vamp held Neil's arms behind the demon's back, while Angel stood in front of them, rocking easily on the balls of his feet. Holy crap, that gesture reminded me of Angelus, of the very brief moments when I interacted with the soulless monster living underneath Angel's soul. People like to forget the monster is there, Buffy especially, and maybe even Fred. But I don't. Never have, never will. Unsurprisingly, I think Spike likes the fact that it's there.

"So, Neil," Angel began, watching as the demon blinked and shivered in Spike's grasp. "We're here on a mission. Problem is, we don't know exactly what mission we're on."

"Sucks for you, man," Neil warbled, his voice going all high and frightened, though he was trying to sound nonchalant.

"That's where you come in, mate," Spike insisted, shaking the demon just a smidge.

"I don't know why you're here! I swear!"

"Maybe," Fred began, smiling at Neil and pulling a chair away from the table. "Maybe we can all just sit down and have a nice chat?"

"Yeah," Angel agreed, taking the chair from Fred and setting it roughly down next to Neil. "Have a seat, buddy, and let's get this over with." Angel sat opposite the demon, straddling another chair backwards, while Neil was held down in his seat by Spike's rough hands on either shoulder. Giving the demon another hard look, Angel asked, "You haven't heard about anything strange going on in town?"

"No, man!" the demon insisted, looking up at me with his dark eyes, pleading with me. I know demons don't have souls, but sometimes when they look at you like that, it's easy to forget, even if they do look like a cross between a person and a fish. And forgetting is what gets you killed.

After looking away, I heard Angel huff and push his chair over the carpet. When I turned around again, he was even closer to the demon, staring him down, one set of dark eyes meeting the others. "We'll let you go as soon as you tell us what you know, Neil," Angel insisted, not even blinking as he eyed the demon. Do vampires even have to blink? They probably do, right? For comfort's sake in any case.

"What do I know? I'm left here all by myself, no friends," Neil whined, shifting and looking away from Angel. "Shit, I'm going into diners now, dressed as one of _them_." The demon smiled sadly, a grill full of sharp-looking teeth aimed at Fred and me before turning back to Angel. "It's bad, man. But if I had half a clue why, don't you think I would have done something by now?"

"How long has something been wrong?" Fred asked, studying Neil intently, like she'd be able to read any expressions that passed over that fishy face of his. I certainly was having trouble. Besides the pleading-puppy look he'd perfected, this thing was incredibly alien.

The demon shrugged, "Couple a years, maybe? Couldn't tell you when, exactly, things started going wrong." He cocked his head at Fred, studying her right back for a few seconds before Angel snapped his fingers right in front of Neil's face. "Geez, man! For an immortal, you've very little patience, you know?"

"You don't _want_ to know what happens when my patience runs out," Angel insisted with a growl. "Now, what makes you think something is wrong? You said there used to be more demons here?"

"Yeah," Neil nodded eagerly. "There were lots of us here, a whole community, right here in Peddleford."

"How come?" I asked him. "I mean, it's not like there's much of a seedy underbelly to hide out under."

"Well," Neil replied, turning those inhuman eyes and that pleading sharp smile on me again, "a group of us decided we'd had enough of Boston, enough of the big city in general. That was nearing fifty years ago now. I mean, I was spawned here, but most of my friends came earlier. We had everything set up real nice, our own barter system and everything, but then something ruined it."

"What?" Spike asked, shaking the demon again, his patience visibly weakening as he sneered down at the demon.

"I already told you!" he exclaimed. "I don't know exactly. All I know is it started feeling weird here. Itchy, kinda? It doesn't bother me, but almost everyone else packed up and left."

"Almost?" I pounced on that word, familiar with all the words slimy weasels like demons or unethical construction foremen use to talk their way out of reducing the bottom line. "Who's left?"

"Just me, a satyr named Penny. She lives out in the woods between the grocery store and the park. And Largo. But he's cool. Ventus demon, keeps to himself mostly."

Angel sighed and asked him, "That's it? If I go looking around, will I find friends of yours besides Penny and Largo?"

"If you do, it'll be news to me, man. I promise!" Neil's gills were starting to look dried out and papery, fluttering as he seemed to be hyperventilating under the interrogation.

"Any ideas where this 'itchy' feeling is coming from?" Fred asked, solidly bringing the conversation back on track. I couldn't help but smile at how well she held her own next to Angel. It made me wish that I'd visited Deadboy, Wes, and Cordelia at least once, to see how Fred had interacted with all of them. But, it was just too painful to think about seeing Cordy after how things between us ended. And you know, I didn't really have a burning _need_ to see the vampire that broke my best friend's heart.

"All over," Neil replied to Fred's question. "All over town. Like I said, it doesn't really bother me, so maybe I don't feel it as much as the others did."

Furrowing my brows at Spike, I asked him, "Are you picking up on this 'feeling'?"

"I'm so turned around by these visions, mate," Spike shook his head sadly. "But how 'bout you, luv?" he asked Angel.

The dark-haired vampire, closed his eyes for a moment, and then shook his head. "I don't feel it. Turning to the demon, Angel asked, "How do we know you aren't lying?"

"Why would I lie?" Neil replied, his voice cracking in a high-pitched squeak that had me wincing and pulling at my ear. "Not really my habit to protect other demons at my own expense, you know? Do I look like a martyr to you?"

"No," Angel agreed roughly, meeting Spike's eyes over Neil's head and doing that little almost-telepathic-conversation thing they do. After a moment, Spike shrugged and nodded, removing his hands from the demon and stepping back.

Neil looked up and back at him in confusion, like he expected Spike to be messing with him. To make their intentions clear, Angel stood up and pointed at me and then the door, which I supposed was an order to open it and grant the demon his freedom. "You can go, Neil." The fishy guy relaxed almost visibly, taking one step in my direction before Angel continued, his voice harsh, "But if I see you around town again, our next conversation won't be so painless. Got it?"

"Ye-yeah," Neil stuttered, keeping one dark eye on Angel and the other on me as he edged past and out the door. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the demon took off running, almost tripping over himself in his haste to escape.

"But," Fred began, standing up and following Neil out the door before turning to us three male-type people still in the room, "_Helen?_"

Angel shrugged. "He knows better than to be seen. And even if she does see him," Angel added, turning his chair back toward the table and sinking down into it, "she won't believe what she's seeing."

"Like Sunnydale all over again," I chuckled. "Denial is a citizen's best friend in this town."

"Still don't know what we're after, though, do we?" Spike asked sadly, kneeling next to Angel's chair and resting his temple on the armrest. Like it was long-standing habit, Angel's hand found the back of Spike's head and neck, petting him gently. "And," Spike added, "the Powers brought us here, I think, so that the poor blighters of this town wouldn't have to tell themselves it's just something in the water, or bloody power lines, or swamp gas. So things – _life_ – can go back to normal."

I joined them at the table, waiting for Fred to take her seat before I scooted past toward my chair. "We need a new lead," I decided, taking one last look at the list of possibilities Angel had written on a yellow legal pad in his girly handwriting.

"Don't –" Spike muttered, just before my phone started ringing.

Looking at the caller ID, I was surprised that the number wasn't Scotland like I'd been expecting. Flipping open the phone, I said, "Y'ello?"

"Is…" the voice on the other end of the line asked hesitantly, "Is this Xander?"

"Yeah," I agreed slowly. "Who's this?"

The woman sighed and her voice warbled as she answered, "Becky. From the hospital?"

"Oh! Hi, Becky," I nodded, looking to the others meaningfully. "Did you think of something else to tell us?"

"Not exactly," she sighed. "I'm working overtime tonight, and we just had another death."

"Another mother?" I asked.

"Yeah."

Shit. This is so not of the good. "Should we come by?"

"Um," Becky stalled. Finally, she took a sharp breath, making a decision and telling me, "If you can get here quickly, you can see the baby before visiting hours are over. He's so…"

"Alright," I agreed, not wanting to know what had to be wrong with a cute little newborn for it to give the nurse a wiggins like this. "Fred and I will bring two more friends. They have some expertise in these matters." Spike scoffed audibly in the background as he stood, finding his jacket from the corner of the room as everyone else stood to leave.

"Okay," Becky agreed skeptically.

"Don't worry," I assured her, "we'll get to the bottom of this. I promise." Spike scoffed at that again. Seriously, that guy needs to get some ne moves. He's too predictable.

"Thanks, Xander," the nurse said. "I'll see you soon."

"Buh-bye," I agreed, hanging up and facing my three compatriots. "Another woman died. We can go see the baby if we leave right away. Maybe figure out what's different about him?"

"I tried to tell you, Harris," Spike snarled as he led the way from the room, pulling the door open quickly, making a dramatic exit.

Catching up to him in the hallway, I asked Spike, "What did you try to tell me, Peroxide Brain?"

"You go around wishing for leads," he said, his voice doing that low and trying-to-be-scary tone, "and now another woman's _dead_."

"What?" I replied indignantly, looking back to Fred for some support, only to find her shrugging at me. "She was dead for a while at least before I said that," I insisted.

"No," Spike replied, like he couldn't be argued with. "There's blood on your hands now, Scooby. It's all your fault."

I tried to catch up with him as he bounded down the staircase, in order to hit him upside the head, but he was just too quick. And, as Angel passed me, following Spike out to the car, he had the audacity to chuckle at me. Damn vampires!

* * *

The four of us made our way over to the hospital, where the humans' new friend, Becky, worked, in order to see this new killer baby. For Christ's sake, this was a weird case. And I've dealt with a lot of strange things in my long life. At least teasing Xander had lifted Spike's spirits some. I could feel how hopeless and exhausted he'd been all day, and I hated being unable to fix it.

When we got to the hospital, Fred and Xander led the way to the maternity ward, approaching one of the nurses right away when we got there. "Becky," Fred greeted the woman, clearing up her identity for those of us who were undead. The woman looked sad and freaked out as Fred asked, "What exactly happened?"

The woman glanced past Fred and nodded at Spike and me, asking suspiciously, "These are your friends?"

"They are," Fred insisted, smiling back at us while Xander rolled his eye. "We're here to help."

"Well, like I said on the phone," she began, keeping her voice low as she ushered us into a patient's room, "it's happened again. Martha Kowalski swore to me that she didn't know how she got pregnant, since her husband left her over a year ago. And just like my sister, she started hemorrhaging after we got the baby out. She died before we could stop the bleeding."

While Becky was speaking, Spike backhanded my shoulder lightly and nodded back to the occupant of the single bed. The patient was an older man, hooked up to all sorts of machines and looking like he wasn't getting up anytime soon. I shrugged at Spike in response, figuring Becky knew that this would be a safe place to talk.

"What about the baby?" Xander asked the woman.

"He's in the nursery," she answered, raking her hands through her hair and meeting the boy's eye. "We don't even know who's going to take him. Maybe Martha's mother? She's flying in from Arizona tomorrow. God, this is such a fucking mess!"

Fred patted the nurse's shoulder, comforting her and asking, "Does this baby seem different? Like you said the others did?"

"Yeah," Becky replied, wiping a few tears from under her eyes. "He didn't cry at all. None of them cry."

"Ange and I'll go take a peek at the little tyke," Spike decided, taking my hand as he asked the nurse, "Which way, luv?"

"Just down the hall," she said, pointing. "But visiting hours are almost over."

"We'll be right back," I told her, letting Spike lead the way, tugging me by the hand.

When we got back out into the hallway, I asked Spike, "What do you think we'll find that the doctors didn't?"

"Dunno, pet," Spike answered with a shrug. "But I've got a feeling."

"Awesome," I sighed. "A feeling."

And then, we approached a large window, looking in on a room that held five infants, each in their own clear plastic bassinette, and a very protective looking nurse. Despite her presence, Spike forged on ahead, stepping into the room without even making sure I would follow. Leaping before he looked, yet again.

"Can I help you?" the nurse asked, approaching Spike right away, suspicion clear on her face.

"I'm Martha Kowalki's brother," Spike lied. "Here to see the nephew, maybe help console the loss of my dear sister." God, Spike even made his voice waver as if he actually was in mourning. And was that a tear? I swear, if I didn't have this bond, letting me feel what he was feeling all the time, I would never be sure he wasn't lying to me.

"I didn't know Martha had a brother," the nurse replied, crossing her arms over her chest angrily. "And your accent?"

"Half-brother," Spike insisted, without missing a beat. "Quite the scandal, luv. Share a father with dear Martha, though never got to know him, growing up 'cross the pond with me mum. Reconnected with Martha just a few years ago," he sniffed sadly, leaning back against me, "and now she's gone!"

Spike turned and buried his face in my shoulder as if he were sobbing. Trying not to roll my eyes, I squeezed him closer, whispering, "Shh, hon. It's okay."

The nurse's face changed so rapidly, that I almost laughed. "I'm _so_ sorry for your loss," she cried, patting Spike's back carefully and looking like she might start crying at any moment out of sympathy. "Of course you can see him!"

She lead us to one of the bassinettes, while Spike spluttered and rubbed his face to make it look like he'd cried more than a few tears over the loss of dear Martha. "Here he is," she said, tapping the bassinette lightly, "Baby Boy Kowalski."

"She didn't even get to name him?" Spike cried, to all appearances utterly devastated.

"No," the nurse shook her head. "Martha died before she could tell us."

Spike wailed again, hooking one hand heavily on my shoulder like he needed help to stay standing. Looking up at the nurse as I wrapped one arm around Spike's waist, I furrowed my brow and asked, "Could you give us a few moments with him?"

"Of course," she nodded. "Just don't take him from the room, or the alarms will sound."

"I understand," I told her, hugging Spike closer and trying not to notice how good he smelled despite the crocodile tears. "Thank you."

The nurse nodded once more and left, the door closing smoothly behind her.

"That went well," Spike observed, his tone suddenly happy as he grinned over at me.

Scoffing, I bent to look at the child, checking him over carefully for any signs of what was going on here. The baby was sleeping soundly, his cap slipping from his head and his mouth slightly open, chest rising and falling steadily. "He looks normal," I said carefully as Spike crouched down beside the crib, peering at the baby through the plastic like he was a fucking iguana in a tank.

Inhaling and weaving his head back and forth a bit, Spike replied, "Doesn't smell normal though, does he?"

Getting a whiff, I said, "You're right." I took in more of the air above Baby Boy Kowalski as I carefully pulled his cap back onto his head with a practiced motion, since that always used to happen to Connor, too. Though momentarily thrown by the comparison, I managed to ask Spike, "Can you place the scent?"

"Demonic," he replied without hesitation. "Not sure what breed."

"Mmm," I hummed, unable to stop myself from brushing the baby's cheek with one knuckle, "me neither."

"Don't go all weepy on me, ya big poof," Spike scolded as he stood, "just cause he's an orphan. Know you have a tendency to take in strays."

"What?" I asked, backing away from the infant and scoffing at Spike as he drew closer. "I do not collect strays. And children are not strays."

"Oh, you love collecting lost souls, and you know it," Spike grinned, clapping me on the back. "Wes? Gunn? Fred? _Me_?"

"Okay," I growled, shrugging off his hand. "Maybe. But pointing out my character flaws won't help us determine what sort of demon fathered this baby."

"We'll have Fred bring up a list and then just start eliminating, yeah? We already know vampire's out, your freakish case notwithstanding."

"Even if it was," I shrugged, "he'd smell more like Connor."

Tilting his head at me, Spike smiled, "You miss him, luv?"

Returning Spike's smile sadly and trying to wish away the clenching in my chest whenever I thought about my son, who was so far away at school these days, I asked, "How could you tell?"

Sniffing like he does when he's amused, Spike answered, "Get this tone in your voice and a pain right here." He put a flat hand over my heart, pressing just enough to let me know he was there. I grabbed his hand in mine, bringing it away from my chest before the tenderness of the moment could really get to me.

"Let's get back to the others," I said, drawing him away from the infant. "We've seen enough for now."

"Right, then," Spike agreed with a nod and one last glance backward at Baby Boy Kowalski before he followed me, slipping back into a mask of overwhelming grief so suddenly that I almost asked him what was wrong, before I realized that his answer would have been, "Nothing."

* * *

_Please remember to review! I love hearing from you, especially if you've got any requests..._


	8. To Speak of Old Friends

Legacy Chapter 8 –To Speak of Old Friends

I have to admit, something about this situation really got to me. Maybe it was Becky's distress and hopelessness. Maybe it was my indignation at the thought that something - a demon according to Spike and Angel - could do this to a woman without leaving behind any memory of the event.

Could it have happened to me? Could I be carrying a demon's baby and not even realize it?

"Don't be ridiculous," Illyria told me, speaking softly, so only I would hear her as the four of us walked back to the car. "Our form has not been tampered with."

"How do you know?" I asked her, accidentally getting Xander's attention.

Turning to face me, he asked, "What? Did you say something?"

"Sorry," I blushed, giving him a smile to convince him that everything was okay. "Just having a conversation with myself."

"Illyria?" he asked, his eye smiling along with the rest of his face lightheartedly.

I nodded in response, kicking myself for looking like such an idiot talking to myself. Not that this was anything new, but I found I wanted to put my best foot forward around him. Maybe because of how highly Willow and Buffy spoke of him. Yeah, that had to be the reason.

Trying to speak internally as well as possible, I asked Illyria again, "How do you know nothing messed with us?"

Replying with what felt like a roll of my eyes, Illyria whispered, "I would remember. There are no gaps in our memory."

"Thank God for that."

"Besides, I would not allow harm to come to us."

"Because my lovely personality is growing on you?" I asked her, stifling a little giggle that I hid behind a quick hand to my mouth.

Scoffing, Illyria replied, "If we are to share this body as you keep insisting, I would advise against mocking me. Human."

"Alright, alright," I agreed, trying to keep my voice down, "Parasite-to-a-Human."

I swore for a second, Illyria was going to try to slug me, which would have hurt, but been hilarious anyway. Instead, she said something in a demonic language that she knew I didn't understand, and I'm certain it was an insult. And guessing from the stream of words, a very long and creatively involved insult. I just shook our head in response, knowing better than to keep egging her on. Illyria might just get it into her (well, our) head to try taking over my body once and for all.

When we got to the car, Angel took the driver's seat, to no one's surprise, with Spike taking shotgun automatically. Xander and I sat in the back seat, and the guy yawned beside me as he closed his door. "Man," he said, "I don't know about you people, but I could use some sleep."

"Yeah," I agreed, really just to be agreeable. It was coming up on the early morning hours of the night, and I was exhausted, but growing worried again. We'd been brought here to Peddleford for a reason, but we still weren't sure what that reason was. It was frustrating, especially when Spike's visions came back halfway through the drive back to the bed and breakfast.

"Soddin' hell!" Spike cried, clutching his head so violently that Angel pulled over and parked, looking back at me with that worried expression on his face as he reached across and held Spike's elbows comfortingly before pulling him in closer.

"C'mere, sunshine," I heard him whisper, and it made my heart hurt because suddenly, I was reminded of how Angel had been there whenever he could to get Cordy through her visions, too. And it was the same expression of love and worry. The same question, "What do you see, hon?" Well, he'd never called Cordy pet names that I was aware of. It made me sad for Cordelia, but happy for Spike and Angel. They both deserved to have someone and I hoped they didn't take it for granted. You never knew when people were just gonna up and die for no reason.

As Spike mumbled to Angel and Angel pet the blonde vampire in turn, Xander looked over at me and asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Surprised by the question, I blurted out, "Cordelia."

"Really?" he asked, eyebrows jumping up and sleepy expression dissolving away.

"She had the visions before Spike."

"Oh," Xander knodded, "I knew that. Was it always like _this_?"

Angel looked up at Xander between the seats and nodded sadly, while I replied, "Pretty much. They killed her, in the long run."

"That's just what I bloody well wanted to hear," Spike grumbled, his face buried in Angel's shoulder and his shoulders rising and falling as he took deep, calming breaths, for the habit of it more than the oxygen, I was sure.

After a moment of silence, Xander asked me, "You were friends with her?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be? We worked together for years."

The man shrugged, saying, "She wasn't always the easiest person to get along with. Not in high school, anyway."

"She grew up," Angel insisted, almost angrily.

Nodding in support, I agreed, "Yeah. She could be ... abrasive, but she was a really good friend."

"It's weird, remembering she's gone," Xander confessed, his voice soft as his eyes met Angel's. "I figured that once she left Sunnydale, she'd made it out, you know? That she'd be okay."

"God, Harris," Spike growled, clutching his head again. "Can't you shut up for two minutes? Bloody hell! Boy gets dumped and all of a sudden he goes contemplative."

"Well, sorry for ruining your pity-party, Spike," Xander replied with a huff, turning to face out his window, ignoring the rest of us.

Sighing, Angel let go of Spike and put the car back into gear. "Let's just get some rest."

As we drove, I wondered, what would Cordy, the real Cordy, do in this situation? Would she just follow orders and go back to the hotel? Or would she find some other way to help? Some wacky scheme to get the information we needed, to find this demon that was impregnating and killing the vulnerable women of this town?

I think, as much as she liked to talk about taking vacations and long shopping-break lunches, she would have done something. She would have tried to help. So, on the way back to the hotel, I formulated a plan, which is nothin' like formulating a formula, really, but I like the thought that my newfound plan could have some scientific merit.

* * *

When I helped Spike up into our room and closed the door behind us, he asked me quietly, "D'ya think these bloody things'll do me in as well, luv? Like the cheerleader?"

"No," I insisted, depositing him on the bed and crouching down to look up at him. "Spike? How much have I told you about Doyle?"

"That Mick who used to work with you?" he asked, smiling and chuckling when I smacked his knee at the term.

"Yeah."

"Met 'im once," Spike told me, "real white-hat, that one."

"When did you meet him?" I asked Spike, surprised until it dawned on me. "The Gem of Amara?"

"That's the one," Spike grinned, reaching down to kiss me, which I shied away from. "Aw, come now, luv," he scolded. "What's a little torture among friends?"

"Two words for you, hon," I growled, standing. "Hot pokers."

Spike scoffed and started unlacing his boots. "Like you haven't done worse to me? In any case, I'm sorry, Angel. I was still evil."

"Thank God you aren't anymore," I said. "Oh, wait…"

"Hey!" Spike replied with a grin, pulling me down into another kiss, which I let him have this time. "I'm keepin' up with you do-gooders now, what with the soul. And the bloody visions."

"Right," I said, remembering the first line of discussion. "Doyle. He was my first guide in LA. He had the visions before giving them to Cordelia," I explained, hanging up my coat as I spoke, and then joining Spike on the bed. "He was also half-demon. That's why the Powers gave him the visions. Because he was a demon, he could handle them, unlike Cordy."

Spike laid back, looked up at the ceiling, biting one black-painted nail and asked, "The visions didn't kill 'im?"

"No, he went and sacrificed himself," I told him, joining him and lying down on my back.

"Let me guess," my boyfriend smirked, turning onto his side to face me. "He did it to save you the trouble, didn't he, pet?"

"It's like you can read my fucking mind," I replied, still watching the ceiling above us.

"Who says I can't?" Spike purred, scooting over next to me and wrapping his body around mine. "Not like it's all that difficult, Ange. You've only got the three moods."

I scoffed and looked over at him, frowning at his smirk. "And they are?"

"Guilty," he murmured, kissing the side of my neck gently, and I wondered whether or not he would bite. "Angry," he continued, moving his lips upward, underneath my ear. There he whispered, "And horny," before pulling on my earlobe with his teeth.

"You're trying to incite all three, aren't you?" I asked him, letting one hand pull him closer. "How's your head?"

Rocking his hips against my thigh, he whispered, "Hard, luv," sending a shiver down my spine. There were so many times when we could just sit in a room and be companionable, no sex required. But apparently, this wasn't one of those times. It hadn't been all day.

"I meant your skull, moron," I told him, tapping on his temple because I knew it would hurt, just a tiny bit.

"Oi!" Spike complained, sitting up and glaring down at me. "Fuck you, Angel."

"You know you like it," I smirked, grabbing at one of his wrists and squeezing just to the point where it hurt.

Spike shuddered before saying, "Had enough pain for today."

"Something else then?" I whispered to him, loosening my hold and inhaling the scent of his lust, holding it in my lungs until the taste faded.

He leaned into me for just a moment before huffing in frustration and standing, "I'm gonna get a bloody vision right in the middle."

"But," I cried, reaching to try to get him to come back. "You started it!"

"And we both know ending it won't work. Found that out earlier today, didn't we? How many times did we start and not finish? Five? Six?"

"I don't know," I growled, matching his anger with mine. "And, mission accomplished, by the way."

Spike glared at me for half a second before a sharp bark of laughter escaped his lips. "All three moods, then?"

Standing and stalking after him, I caught Spike and pushed him up against one of the walls, pinning him there with my body. "All three," I whispered, keeping his eyes with mine. God, he was beautiful, despite the attitude, or maybe because of his attitude? I couldn't decide. All I knew was that he felt _right_ pressed against me like this, and I really didn't want anything to screw up what we had going. Not even the fucking Powers That Were.

Realizing how completely I wanted to lose myself in him and taking a sharp breath, I asked Spike, "Is it just me, or is this unusual? The way I can't seem to keep my hands off you, despite the visions fucking everything up?"

"Dunno, pet," he replied, pressing closer. "It has been a bit _overwhelming_ since we got into this town, hasn't it?"

"I thought it was from being cooped up in that car day after day after day."

Spike backed his head up until it clunked against the wall, giving me an offended look, "Oi, I did my best."

"I know you did, hon," I soothed him, kissing his scarred eyebrow, "I know."

"But you're thinkin' this isn't just us? That something's messin' with us, Ange?" Spike looked up at me skeptically. "That it's not just the blood chemistry?"

"Not our usual chemistry," I said, sucking an open-mouthed kiss on the side of his neck. "God, you taste fantastic."

"Fuck!" he groaned, his forehead dropping down onto my shoulder and I almost kissed him again, except I could feel the pain blooming in his head from another vision. So, I picked Spike up and laid him out on the bed, watching as he curled into a fetal position.

"Gettin' worse and worse," Spike cringed, grabbing onto my hand with almost crushing force as I pet him, soothing his way through this next vision. He started mumbling, so I put my ear closer to his mouth, hearing him say, "Leaves on the pavement, yellow, brown. Smell of crayons. Dark and musty, basement where he… House burns down, all down. Her bloody fault it is, little blighter. Don't know how to be half a demon." Spike chuckled, still crushing my hand against the pain. "Not like either of us has figured it out, have we, luv?"

"Not yet," I agreed, wondering how often Spike thought of himself as half a demon, now that he had a soul. Because most days, my senses told me I was all demon, despite the soul. Despite wanting to be what Buffy wanted of me, ofus. Despite that old wish to become human once more. But I'd given up that possibility for him, and hadn't regretted it for a moment.

"Car door slams," Spike continued, muttering this nonsense into my ear, "and the pie plate falls. Don't know why the dish ran away with the spoon. Wouldn't the fork be upset?"

"Christ, Spike," I muttered, still petting him. "If you turn into another Dru, I might just have to leave you."

"Wouldn't do that, if I were you, Ange," Spike replied, the hold on my hand slackening, though his eyes were still screwed shut against the pain. "Cause I'd come after you, sane or no. You're mine now, yeah? Always."

"Always," I told him with a private smile, kissing his pursed lips gently. "Always."

* * *

Right, so I'm roughly as sane as the next guy, don't you think? So why was this town messing with my head so much? Messing with everyone? Angel and Spike kept wanting to be alone, which I know isn't a drastic change, but usually Angel's all, "The mission comes first, and then the personal life." And Fred! Don't get me started on Fred. She was whispering to Illyria all the way back to the inn, acting all secretive with herself. So now, my question is, am I being paranoid here, or is something weird actually going on?

Sometimes, in Sunnydale, it was difficult to tell. Weird was normal and normal was weird, and you just had to worry about the weird things that were threatening to end the world, or killing people on a daily basis. Oh, wait. I guess Peddleford had one of those lesser problems. Women kept dying, which was _so_ a Sunnydale thing to happen. Hence, the flipping open of my phone and the dialing.

"This is Giles speaking," the Watcher himself answered, his tone guarded and harsh. As usual.

"Hey, G-man," I said. "It's me."

"Oh, joy," he replied sarcastically, and I could almost see him cleaning his glasses from all the way over in the States.

"I just had a question, you know, one Watcher to another?"

"I can't believe Buffy made me give you that title," the Englishman sighed.

"Hey!" I laughed good-naturedly, almost sighing in relief when Giles joined me in the chuckle. "Someone's gotta do the job? Right?"

"I reckon that's for the best."

"Okay," I said, gearing myself up for this question, because I knew it wasn't going to be easy. Not the question, per se, but understanding the answer. "Is there such a thing as a mini-Hellmouth?"

"A mini-Hellmouth?" Giles repeated disdainfully. See? He doesn't like any of my ideas. "I suppose there are small areas where the fabric between this world and the next runs a little thin." Well, that was a better explanation than he usually gave. But then he asked, "Why?"

"I'm on a mission with the vamps and –"

"The vamps?" Giles cut me off. "What vamps?"

"Angel and Spike," I told him.

"Oh, _them_," the Watcher replied, his disapproval voice in full force. "They're still in Scotland?"

"Well, not at the moment," I told him, "because we're on a _mission_. But yeah, in general that's where they hang their hats these days. Yeah, I know big guy, when I saw that Spike was alive again and banging Angel? I almost threw up. But you know, they're still part of the team."

"Says who?" Giles asked, in his worried, I-have-to-protect-my-slayer voice.

"Says Buffy," I told him. "You really thought she would have gotten rid of them by now?"

"I had hoped maybe they would have killed each other by now," the man sighed. "I knew taking a few months off from pushing things in that direction would be risky, but …"

"Hey, I've been here nagging Buffy the whole time to get rid of them, and it's not doing any good, Giles. Not when they're both such heroes over what happened in LA. Did you hear about the earthquake?"

"The earthquake?" Giles asked me, and I realized he must have been keeping himself out of the loop on purpose, if he hadn't heard the cover story we concocted to cover up what had happened there a few months ago.

"Yeah," I replied, "an earthquake named Willow, who kicked the Senior Partners' butts all the way back to Hell, baby."

"_Don't_," Giles scolded, "call me 'baby'."

"Right," I agreed. "Sorry." Taking a deep breath and wondering why I had to be the one to fill in the absent Watcher General, I asked, "Where have you been, anyway? Tibet?"

"Siberia, actually," he corrected. "It's been rather pleasant."

"Yeah, I'm sure," I agreed, wondering what it would be like for just a day, not to be surrounded by slayers and demons and friggin' gay vampires. "That does sound nice." Shaking my head at the thought, I realized that I was talking to Giles for a reason. "Anyway, I'm on a mission, and we're looking for a demon killing women by means of baby, and this other demon we talked to said the town has been feeling 'itchy' for the past few years."

"Itchy," Giles replied, like I'd just put on a tutu and danced around crazily. Sometimes I wonder if that's what he thinks of everything I do.

"That's what the slimy demon said," I insisted. "It's been driving the supernatural community of this town away."

"Then it's not a Hellmouth," Giles decided. "It sounds more like a territorial thing. Some demon scaring off any competition."

"Territorial," I repeated. "Right. Okay. Thanks, Giles."

"Earlier on," the Watcher asked, and I could hear the disgusted curiosity in his voice, "did you say something about Spike 'banging' Angel? They're still...?"

"Yeah," I replied. "They're all lovey-dovey and crap. It's really quite disgusting. Oh," I added, "and Spike gets visions now. That's kinda why we're here."

"And – and," he stuttered, almost endearingly, I thought, "how is Buffy handling their absence from Scotland?"

"Oh, man," I scoffed, thinking of the conversation I'd had with Buffy the night before and putting my hand over my good eye to block out the light, "you don't even want to know."

"That good?"

"Not even."

"Oh, dear."

* * *

"Thanks, Willow," I said, putting the bag of ingredients back together, minus the pieces I needed. "Everything I need is here, thanks to your handy-dandy basic field kit."

"Don't leave home without it," Willow said, and I could almost picture what Xander calls her resolve face.

"Do not order me around, Witch," Illyria barked, managing to rear her head. Squashing her down for what felt like the millionth time in twenty-four hours, I cried, "Sorry, Willow! She got away from me there. I do really appreciate the help."

"No problem!"

"Well, I should go, then," I told her, trying not to be flustered about the half-truths I'd told in order to get her help.

"But, isn't it coming up on dawn over there?"

"No rest for the wicked," I said quickly, hanging up before Willow could ask me why I was going out without the vampires.

I guess I just didn't want to wait for them to pull it together again. And, I didn't want Xander to worry about me getting things done by myself. Since Illyria and I had perfected our time-bending abilities, sometimes it was just too frustrating to wait for the others. Especially when I felt like, with every passing moment, another woman's life might be in danger and the opportunity I had _now _would be gone. If I was going to take something away from the time I spent working with Cordelia, it would be her bravery in the face of danger and her independence.

So, I packed the ingredients I would need for each of the two spells Willow gave me and left the inn alone. Soon, I'd made my way to the hospital, using Illyria's speed to get there without the car. I'd thought about taking it, so the boys wouldn't feel like they _had _to follow if they found that I was gone, but Angel had kept the keys. No way I was going to go bother them now.

At the hospital, I slowed time to disguise my presence and poked around until I found the maternity ward again. The room where Martha Kowalski's baby still sat was locked, except for an emergency exit door, but Illyria helped me steal a key card from one of the nurses. Sneaking in, holding on to time as best I could without losing it, without pushing myself too hard, I found Baby Boy Kowalski and took out the ingredients I would need for my spell.

Various herbs and spices were thrown into a vial and lit on fire with a match before I sterilized a pin over the flames and pricked the baby's foot, rousing him from a sound sleep. I expected him to cry bloody murder, but instead he whimpered and looked directly at me. That was weird. Babies that young weren't supposed to be able to focus on anything further away than a few inches. Keeping one eye on the infant, I dropped the pin into the flames, said a few words, and blew to extinguish the fire.

The smoke, curling around my head, glowed and shivered before appearing to investigate the baby. Carefully, I breathed it in, trying not to cough as the hot, prickly smoke clouded my lungs and worked its way into my body. Illyria knew this magic, blood and fire magic, and she was much more comfortable with it than I was. But, what the heck? If we could bend time and make our body stronger, we could perform a simple tracking spell. I hoped.

As the spell began working, making the tips of my fingers and toes tingle with pins, needles, and anticipation, Illyria pushed me for control.

"Why?" I snapped. "Why can't you let me have this?"

"Why is this so important to you?" she asked in response. "I am much better versed in these magics than you, Human. I can read the signs faster."

"But you won't hurt whatever we find at the end of this trail?"

"I promise nothing."

"Unless he tries to harm us," I clarified, really pushing back at her, so she knew she wasn't the only one in charge here, "you won't hurt the demon we're hunting. We have to know what he did and why."

"The motivations of a lower being interest you? The thought is enough to sicken."

"Yeah, yeah," I snarled harshly, handing over control and trying to help Illyria avoid being seen as we made our way from the hospital and towards the point our spell indicated on the horizon, pulling at our guts undeniably. Hey, maybe that pulling was making Illyria sick, not my human compassion.

Yeah, right.

* * *

_Ah ha! I have conquered writer's block! This was only supposed to be the first half of Chapter 8, but it got really flushed out, so I've pushed back events. Right now, I'm planning on ten chapters total. Almost to the end!_

_Thank you for reading and reviewing. I really love hearing from you!_


	9. Unmasked

_I **just posted yesterday**, so make sure you didn't miss that one! Thanks._

* * *

Legacy Chapter 9 – Unmasked

It had only been a few minutes after I hung up with Giles before my phone rang again. Quickly spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste, I checked the caller ID and answered, "Hey, Willow," spitting again.

"_Thanks_, Xand," Willow chuckled. "That's just what I wanted to hear."

"That's what I'm here for," I insisted, rinsing out my toothbrush. "Grossing out female Scoobies all over the world."

Willow laughed again, and I realized suddenly how much I missed hearing that sound every day. Back in Sunnydale, before all the slayer craziness, we hung out almost every day. But recently? She'd been away training or busy with teaching and I'd been busy trying to run things more often than not. And now here I was, stupidly following a hallucinating vampire to a small town where something wasn't right. And I missed my best friend.

"Anyway," Willow began as I stepped out of the bathroom and into my tiny room at the bed and breakfast. Of course Angel would spring for a suite for him and Spike and stick me with the smallest room in the place. "I remembered a few more instructions for the spells Fred is going to do, but she's not picking up."

"Spells?" I asked.

"You…" Willow started, confused. "You didn't know about the spells?"

"No," I replied, making sure I had pants, a shirt, and my room key before leaving to go pound on Fred's door. "What kind of spells are we talkin' about here, Will? Happy fluffy puppy spells or …"

"Or," she answered, sighing. "Well, the first one's just a tracking spell, that's fine. But the other? It can be tricky to do right."

I pounded the door again and then tried Fred's door handle, finding it unlocked. "Shit, Willow," I said into the phone. "She's not here."

"Oh, goddess," Willow agreed. "See if she told the vamps where she was going?"

"I don't know," I replied. "They've been insisting on _a lot_ of alone time lately. It's like they think they're on some sort of honeymoon or something. It's really getting on my nerves. Especially since it means we've been here a few days and have hardly gotten anywhere."

"Angel's been ignoring the mission?" Willow asked me, her voice all worried.

"Yeah, it's weird, right? I'm not just being paranoid?"

"I don't know…"

Sighing, I took one last glance around Fred's room before leaving and shutting the door behind me. Padding down the hallway in my socks, I told Willow, "I just talked to Giles about it. He thinks there's a territorial demon here in town, since most of the creatures of the night have skedaddled lately. Neil said there's an itchy vibe."

"Neil?"

"Lohgar demon. Nice guy," I replied, joining Willow when she chuckled softly.

"I suppose," she said as I got to Spike and Angel's room – room number seven. "Itchy feelings are usually weak warding spells. Someone there doesn't want to be found."

Knocking loudly on this door, I asked Willow, "Could a warding spell mess with vampires?"

"Depends on who made it," she replied. "Different strokes, you know?"

"Will," I said, knocking again. "I don't want to know." She laughed at the joke just as Angel swung open the door. Thankfully, he was dressed except for his shoes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sparing a glance back toward the bed, where Spike appeared to be passed out, also blissfully dressed, duster and everything.

"You wanna tell him?" I asked Willow, handing over the phone when she agreed.

After a short litany of, "She what? When?" and assuring Angel that I'd already looked for Fred, he took my phone into the room, leaving the door open for me as he asked Willow a few more questions and tried to shake Spike awake. Finally, he just settled for smacking Spike's cheek a few times before the blonde came up swinging, missing Angel's gut l by just a fraction of an inch. Angel kept an eye on Spike as he spoke with Willow, eventually giving his boyfriend a hand up, when Spike had calmed down and realized what was going on.

If I wasn't so worried about where Fred might have gone and why, I would have laughed.

"We'll find her, Willow," Angel said into the phone, "I promise. No, it's not your fault. You didn't know."

Stepping into his boots and sauntering over towards me, loose shoelaces flipping manically around his feet, Spike asked me, "Betty Blue's gotten our Fred into trouble, eh?"

"Maybe," I answered. "All I know is that Willow gave Fred some spells and now she's gone."

"Sounds like somethin' Lyrie would do. Bint has no patience for the rest of us."

Hanging up, Angel joined us near the door and asked Spike, "You think it was Illyria?"

"Might have been," Spike nodded, threading one arm around Angel's waist.

"Willow said that the first spell was a tracking spell," I told the two vamps, trying not to roll my eye at the way Angel leaned into Spike as they stood. "We should figure out what she was tracking."

"Mm-hmm," Angel agreed, his eyes fluttering shut as Spike reached over to kiss his neck.

"Hey!" I shouted, clapping my hands near their faces to startle them. "Knock it off!"

"Sorry," Angel replied sheepishly, breaking away from Spike, while the blonde just sneered at me for interrupting. "This town …" Angel tried by way of explanation.

"Okay," I nodded. "So I'm not paranoid. Something weird is definitely going on."

"You'd like to think so, wouldn't you, whelp?" Spike asked, letting his tongue fall onto his lower lip obscenely. But then, Angel cleared his throat and glared, making Spike reign in his expression and stand up straighter.

"No, you're not paranoid," Angel told me, picking up a heavy blanket from the bed and folding it until he could carry it comfortably in his arms. "At least, not about this." Spike laughed and I shot them both a dirty look.

"Can we please just go after Fred?" I asked. "Search for her around town? I don't know…"

"Here," Angel said, taking the car keys out of his pocket and handing them to me. "Pull the car as close to the exit as you can, and open the doors. We'll have to run for it."

"Ah, hence the mobile bedding," I said, taking the keys and turning to leave the room. "But, I swear to God, if I have to come back in here to break you two up? I'm leaving without you."

"We'll be there," Angel told me, pushing the blanket at Spike and reaching for his coat. Stupid vampires and their stupid long, look-at-me-I'm-so-dangerous, coats. _Well_, I thought, leaving their room and hurtling down the stairs and out to the parking lot. _Maybe now that I had the dangerous eye-patch look going, I could pull off one of those coats too._ Not that I would want to look anything like those two! No sir-ee, Bob!

* * *

Angel and I managed to get into the car with a minimum degree of singeing, and Xander slammed the car door shut behind us, almost catching the tails of my duster, that bastard. It's like he's got an aversion to all things remotely cool. Or maybe he was just angry because some of us were getting laid (if these bloody visions would ever knock it the fuck off) and he wouldn't be anymore, since that Renee bit dumped him. Too bad, so sad, life goes on, yeah?

Xander drove and after the second time I tried to grope Angel, he pushed me up into the front seat next to the whelp, promising to do excitingly horrible things to me if I didn't behave. Yeah, so what if I love his Angelus side more than I ought? It's not like I'm human either. And, the more Angel threatened me, the paler Xander got, which had me up in stitches until Ange socked me on the jaw.

Problem was, I kept forgetting why we were in this car, all muddled about, and Xander had to remind me. "We're trying to find Fred, lame brain! Focus!"

"Sorry!" I cried, turning my eyes back out the window. Suddenly, I saw it. As we drove down the main thoroughfare of Peddleford, a little boy dropped his ice cream scoop, wailing. "Stop!" I cried, keeping my eyes peeled on the scene, especially when the car door next to the little boy slammed. "Stop the car, Harris!"

"What?" he asked, slamming on the brakes so that I had to grab the dash in order to stay in my seat.

"The visions," I said, pointing out the window as a pair of dead autumn leaves scurried down the sidewalk, pushed by a happy wind. "Go that way," I cried, pointing forward, "slowly."

Then, through the window of the diner, I saw a plate fall off the waitress' tray, shattering on the ground and splattering its piece of pie all over the floor, a spoon bouncing down after them. "Keep going, mate," I encouraged the boy, waving my hand forward, surrounded by all the images I'd seen before. Déjà vu to the nth degree, yeah?

Near the end of the block, a fire-engine roared past us, sirens screaming and lights flashing. Up ahead, a large cloud of smoke billowed up over the stand of trees growing there. "What's that?" Xander asked. "Did Fred do that?"

"No," I replied, watching as we passed a church, doors opening and closing as people entered for the service, revealing a line of school-aged girls all lined up kneeling in the pews. "It Sunday?" I asked.

"No," Angel replied, pulling on my shoulder so I would look back at him. Ugh, even just having him touch me innocently was almost too much to handle. Now, there's no doubt that Ange and I had some major chemistry back home, but this was getting ridiculous. "It's a Catholic School," Angel explained. "And you're sure we shouldn't worry about this fire?"

"None of our concern, luv," I said, making a big effort to keep searching for Fred, and not jumping back into the back seat to ravish Angel. "Firemen will handle that one. Lass didn't kill anyone yet."

"Is Illyria going to kill someone?" Xander screeched, swerving into the oncoming traffic for a brief second in surprise."

"Not Illyria," I insisted, thinking of that picture in my head of the little girl, her bigger sister wailing, as their next home burned to the ground as well. Right little firebug, that one. Maybe I should mention that to Ange?

But, oh wait! "There's Fred," I told them, pointing to her figure, posture Illyria-straight as she pushed open the door into Josh's Barber Salon. Without even consulting the angle of the sun, Xander put the car in park and hopped out, following her into the building. Good thing it was later in the morning hours and Angel was quick enough to throw himself over to my side of the car before he got burnt.

"Fuck," he muttered, shooting an angry glance toward Xander's retreating back and putting one hand on my shoulder to make sure I was okay.

"Run for it?" I asked.

"Yeah, crawl back here so we can both use this blanket."

I shrugged and followed Angel's instruction, having to invade quite a lot of his personal space to avoid the sunlight warming the upholstery on the far side of the car. And so, I ended up in Angel's lap, kissing the hell out of him for no relevant reason, because I couldn't help myself. More so than normal, I couldn't help myself.

And Angel didn't push me away right away, so I knew something was wrong. And that shocked me into pulling back. "We can't – " I said, cut off by Angel pulling me back against his lips, "do this – " another kiss, "right now, luv." Growling, I held him back, one arm pinning either shoulder. "Somethin's wrong! We have to go help Fred! Or have you forgotten about her?"

Ah, and there were Guilty and Mad, my least two favorite of Angel's moods. Clearing his throat and licking his lips nervously, Angel whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I know pet," I replied, trying to finagle a position where we could both hide under the blanket, but were our bits weren't in tempting positions either. "You're sorry. I'm sorry. Let's just get this sorry show on the road, yeah?"

"On three?"

"On three or _after_ three?" I asked, mostly just to be obnoxious, but also because I didn't want to get torched on accident.

"_On_ three," Angel nodded, his dark eyes on my lips. "Always _on_ three." For fuck's sake, he was getting lost again.

"Oi! Angelus!" I shouted right in his face, surprising him into paying attention. "One…" I drawled out significantly, making sure he was with me as I caught the door handle. "Two…" I pulled on the handle, loosening the door and putting the blanket up over my head. "Three!"

* * *

Illyria and I followed the tracking spell to the barber's shop Angel and Spike had checked out the day before. Well, wasn't that interesting? I pushed my way into the shop, Illyria tilting our head at the curious tinkling of the bell over the doorway.

"Be right with you!" a voice sang out from the back room. There were two people in the waiting room, both elderly women who were flipping through magazines as they waited. Ignoring them, Illyria grabbed for my bag and the makings of the second spell.

Just as she found the last one, Xander burst in through the door, panting, "Hey, Lyrie. Glad I found you." The human grabbed our arm and Illyria was not pleased.

"Get out," she growled, looking first at the elderly ladies and then at Xander. "You do not wish to be here."

"You can't tell me what I wish, Illyria," Xander replied. Then, he turned to the ladies with a polite smile, "I'm sorry, ladies. But my friend and I are health inspectors, and we're going to have to ask you to leave."

"But," one of the ladies simpered, "I have an appointment!"

Illyria continued to put together the spell, while Xander opened his mouth to argue with the woman. However, his efforts were interrupted when Angel and Spike burst through the door, hiding under a blanket and smoking something fierce. Again, Illyria turned and this time shouted, "Get out!"

The women took one look at each other and scurried away while the vampires disentangled themselves from the bedspread and held onto each other, more like they were trying to keep separated rather than stick together.

"Hey there, duck," Spike greeted me, panting through a little grin. "Though you'd start the party without us, hmm?"

"None of you should be here," Illyria said, her voice a cold mockery of mine.

"Why?" Xander asked us, gently reaching out to me.

I shied away from his fingers and blew on the spell, awakening it as the barber came back into view. Or, he was wearing an apron, anyways, so I guessed he was the barber.

"Well," he began, eyes flicking over each of us in turn, "isn't this a surprise?"

"What did you do to them?" I asked him, my voice winning out over Illyria's as we blurred forward a few feet. The man started and stumbled backwards a step. "And why?"

I heard the boys follow me, three pairs of feet skittering up from behind. "I don't need you guys for this," I cried back at them, keeping my eyes on the demon before me as Illyria willed the spell in our hands to do its thing.

"Fred!" Angel barked, still holding Spike at arm's length. "What are you doing? Willow wouldn't tell me what the spell was for…"

"She wouldn't?" Xander asked, his voice chock-full of surprise.

"Hey," the barber said, holding up his hands defensively, "I'd kinda like to know what it is, too."

One more breath, and Illyria blew the powder from our hand, covering the barber in it. His form shivered and shifted, growing him about a foot taller, more muscular, and much less human. His clothes split a little at the seams, and his face grew even more beautiful, if that was possible. The only way you could tell he was a demon were the tiny horns spiraled out from his skull and his feet, which were now cloven hooves.

"Shit!" he cursed, looking down at his now big, meaty hands. "Why did you have to go and do that? It's gonna take me ten thousand dollars to put that glamour back in place!"

"I am Illyria, God-King," my resident demon crowed, blurring forward and slamming the demon down onto the ground by his neck. "You will no longer deceive these people and mix your bloodline with the humans'. It's disgusting, and there are already far too many half-breeds around," she sneered, throwing a baleful glance back at the vampires.

"Oh," the barber gurgled around our hand on his throat, "hi, guys!"

"Josh," Angel nodded, his jaw doing that angry clenching thing.

"I thought I put a curse on you two. You should be jumping each other like bunnies!"

"Ah," Spike nodded, letting go of Angel and crouching down beside us. "Thought you'd work your mojo on us, mate? Keep us occupied and outta your hair, so to speak?" The blonde cackled, tapping the demon's forehead.

"Knew you were vamps as soon as you came into town and breached my wards," Josh replied, frowning at Spike's insulting tap. "Didn't need you getting in my way. And that spell has worked on plenty of vampires before. It didn't work on you?"

"Nah," Spike replied, standing up and putting his arm around Angel's waist. "Don't worry mate, it's not that you're losin' your touch. See, we've got the guys upstairs lookin' out for us. Sent us here to stop you. If it is _you've_ been the one killing all the ladies of this town."

"They weren't supposed to die!" he insisted, and with Illyria's help, I picked up his head and dropped it down against the floor again. "Ow!"

All of a sudden, he fought back, punching out at me as he turned over and catching me right across the jaw. He scrambled out from under me and stood, looking ready for a fight.

"Hey!" Xander cried, throwing at the demon one punch that landed and another that didn't before he got knocked to the side as well.

Spike got him a few good ones, but spun away to avoid being kicked in the face. Just as I thought about slowing time so I could get to the demon quickly, Angel picked him up and threw him against the back wall. Josh's body crunched against the mirror there with a sickening sound and before he could get up, Spike and I both had an arm twisted behind his back.

Angel walked up to us and punched the demon directly in the face, knocking him out. Then, he turned to Xander and asked, "Could you poke around for something to tie him up with?"

"Ah," the man nodded. "Your standard tie up the villain supplies. Got it." He hurried around the main room before pushing past a curtain to investigate whatever was in back.

"What is he?" Spike asked as we lowered the demon to the ground. Just in case, Illyria kept one of our boots on the demon and one hand in ours.

Illyria answered for me, because I had no clue, "Incubus."

"No kidding?" Angel laughed, tilting his head to study Josh's face. "Never met one before."

"Disgusting creatures," Illyria expanded. "Almost as bad as vampire."

Spike shuckled and put himself next to Angel again, his arm around Angel's back and one thumb hooked into the other vampire's belt loop. And then they were kissing again, so I looked away. And looked away. And looked away.

"Geez, you guys!" I cried, upon seeing Angel walk Spike into the nearest wall, pressing their bodies together. "You're sure there was no curse?"

"Oh," Angel said, his voice almost cracking as he stepped away from the blonde quickly.

"Yeah," Spike replied with a grin. "That was just a bluff. We're quite cursed, actually."

Xander came back into the room then, saying, "Well, let's get you guys all uncursed before Fred and I end up seeing things we'd rather not." He held up a length of rope in his hand and told us, "Also? There was a confused lady back there. In the secret basement."

"A…" I swallowed in horror as I realized what incubi were famous for. Sick, I released my hold on the demon and rushed back towards where Xander came from. Angel followed me, Xander close on his heels, so I guessed Spike had stayed behind to take care of the prisoner.

Xander pointed me toward an open panel next to the bathroom and I hurried down the stairs, finding a young woman, pretty, with red hair, sitting on a bed, rubbing the inside of one wrist with her thumb. "Where did Josh go?" she asked us almost stupidly. "My hair's not done yet."

"Shh," I whispered, sitting down next to her and taking her hand. Instantly, I felt Illyria grow bored and go dormant, just listening for now. "It's going to be okay. What's your name, sweetie?"

"Claire," she replied, smiling at me. "Claire Wilson. Does my hair look okay?"

"Beautiful," I grinned, brushing it away from her face. Looking up, I saw Angel frowning and furrowing his brow. "What?" I asked gently.

"It stinks down here," he growled.

"Well, yeah, sure," Xander agreed. "It is a secret basement. Most of them are somewhat musty. You know it all has to do with insula…" The man trailed off and smiled at Angel's annoyed look, knowing that he should just shut up.

"It's not just musty," Angel replied with disgust. "C'mon Claire," he said, holding out a hand toward the woman. "Josh is just upstairs, okay? He'll finish your hair right away."

"Alright," she smiled, letting Angel lead her up and into the main room of the barber shop, while Xander and I followed.

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_One more chapter to go!_

_Don't forget to review, you guys! And thanks for reading._


	10. Best Intentions

A/N: We've made it to the last chapter! Hurrah!

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**Legacy **

Chapter 10 - Best Intentions

Once they got upstairs, Angel asked Fred to take the woman, Claire, outside, probably so she didn't have to see what would come next. We had a demon to interrogate, so with Angel's help I pulled the barber into the little back room that led down to that basement and propped him up against the wall. I'd tied the demon's hands behind his back, just like Angel had taught me oh, so long ago, and now we just had to wait for the bugger to come to.

Hopefully it wouldn't take very long, because the headache I'd had since the first vision in Scotland was finally going away and without that distraction, it was bloody difficult to keep my hands to myself. I leaned against one wall while Angel sat in the single chair, peering down at Josh and deliberately not looking at me, the poof, while we waited. And the whelp, he stood near the door, watching us like a hawk, about ready to knock either of us on the head if things suddenly got out of hand.

Of all the curses in the world, though, this one wasn't so bad. It's not like I had an overwhelming desire to shag anyone in a fifty foot radius. Just my boyfriend. So it wasn't all that different from normal, yeah? More intense than usual, sure, but not surprising. Briefly, I wondered how Josh's curse worked. Like, did the sodding thing know who you were in love with? Or was it just coincidence that Angel and I had been the only ones cursed?

Finally, the bloody demon woke up, smacking his pretty lips and asking, "Ugh, what happened?"

"You got busted, is what happened," Xander replied, rubbing his hands together a bit. Turning to Angel, the whelp asked, "What is this thing again?"

"Hey!" Josh cried. "I am not a thing. I'm a person!"

"Demon," I corrected him. "But hey, not alone there, mate."

"You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" he snarled, glaring at each of us in turn.

"Not when," Angel said, crouching closer to the incubus, "you took advantage of the women in this town, fed off their sexual energy, and made them bear your children."

"What?" he cried, having the balls to act surprised and offended. "I would never--"

"The room downstairs," Angel growled, "smells of sex and pain. I bet you liked it when they struggled, didn't you? Even if you couldn't let them remember afterward?"

The prat snarled, "I have to eat," entirely unrepentant now that Angel called him on his nasty deeds.

"You didn't have to feed on so many women so often in such a small town," my boyfriend shot back at him, shaking his head.

"Yeah," I spoke up, willing myself to stay leaning against the wall and not against Angel, "thought incubi usually wandered a bit more. Right nomadic lifestyle, yeah. Rarely leave behind any little ones."

"So why did you stay cooped up in this town?" Xander asked him. "It can't be the humans' food, because believe me, I've seen what this town has to offer. And it is neither very exciting nor very good, gastronomically speaking."

Sighing, Josh rearranged his cloven hooves and said, "The resident demon population built a lot of the framework I needed to stay hidden, you know? Safe? But you asshats have gone and ruined it now. He'll find me and then it's, 'goodbye Earth', 'hello ten thousand lifetimes of hell'."

"I would hide too, if I were you," Angel told him, and I didn't like how intently he was staring at the demon. "But it wasn't people like us you were hiding from, was it, Josh?"

The incubus stared up at Angel for a few long seconds, making eye contact with my bloody boyfriend, challenging him. And, God, do I know how much Angel loves to be challenged. But then, Josh shook his head, dropped his eyes and muttered, "No. There's something worse after me."

"Sasquatch?" Xander asked, and it was a good thing the boy was amused with his own joke, because no one else was.

Rolling his eyes, the demon replied, "No, idiot. My boss. One of the princes of hell? My time on this plane is up and I'm headed back, if he ever finds me."

"Figured while you were layin' low you'd find yourself some cushy digs, did ya, then?" I asked him, crouching down beside Angel to get a good look at the demon's face. "Cold beer, cable TV, and all the unwilling women you could fuck? Time was, I'd be jealous, mate."

"So," Angel cut in, shooting me a look that was either annoyance or lust. I couldn't really tell at the moment. "Why here? Why now? Why these women?"

"Safety," he replied simply with a shrug. "Why _not_ these women? ... And if my time here on Earth really is up, I wanted to leave something behind, so there was at least some evidence that I'd been here after eleven hundred years of sticking to the fucking shadows."

"Wow," Xander broke in with another almost-goofy grin. "And I thought my Uncle Rory was old!"

"Shut it, whelp," I hissed at him, wondering why Buffy's presence in my life had to come with such a high price. Bloody lad never did the honorable and just leave. Wasn't in him.

Angel ignored my outburst and asked the demon, "What exactly are you leaving behind here?"

Josh sniffed angrily and turned away, refusing to answer the question, so I did it for him. Crouching down beside Angel and meeting the incubus' eye, I growled, "A whole mess o' half-demon blighters, is what. Children who aren't human, and never can be. You weren't doing anyone any favors, mate. All your children are going to be troublemakers. Arsonists, rapists, thieves and murderers. And they won't even know why."

"I had to leave someone behind," he insisted quietly. "I had to know someone here was _mine_. Before I left. You know, I've had scores upon scores of women over the years, but none of them _belonged_ to me. Not like these children do."

"Just like a demon," Xander spoke up, shaking his head, "to leave behind a legacy of terror." Then, the lad must have seen me accidentally feeling up Angel's arse, because he retched dramatically and said, "Speaking of terror, how do we get these two uncursed before I go completely blind?"

Josh smirked and closed his eyes for a brief moment before saying, "It is done."

What was done? The curse was lifted? Well, then why did I …? Confused, I stood up and pulled Angel along with me, tilting my head to ask him for a word in private. Once we huddled together in the corner, I asked, "Do you feel any different?"

"Yeah," he sighed in relief. Then, he caught the concerned expression in my eye and asked, "You don't?"

I shook my head, trying to resist the urge to slam Angel against the dirty cinder block wall and have at him. Bloody hell, it would be heavenly, he would be fantastic, and anything, anything at this point, would be a relief, after getting aroused at the mere thought of Angel for near on two days, and unable to do much about it. But then, just as I was about to enact these plans, the git stormed away, punching the incubus right in the gut and snarling, "Take the curse away, or I'll find at least thirty painful ways to make you regret your decision."

"I did!" Josh choked out. "I dispelled the curse!" The incubus looked up at me and shivered. "He's just ... Man, if I did guys, you'd be a meal and a half, vampire. All that energy!"

Angel shot a confused look my way, and I shrugged. "Not my fault the soddin' powers kept fucking with me this week." Angel opened his mouth, about to reply, but the whelp got there first.

"Are we just about done here?" Xander asked, looking about as uncomfortable as possible, frowning and shifting around from foot to foot, shoulders hunched.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, holding me away from him with one hand on my chest. Wait, how did I get next to him again? Bloody hell. Now that my Powers-induced headache was completely gone, the rest of my body had plans of its own. "We'll take him with us."

"Ange," I said, my voice lower and huskier than I meant it to be. "He's got a prince of hell after him. You really think it wise to bring that home?"

"Yeah," Xander agreed. "Can't we just kill him?"

"Hey!" Josh cried, looking up at the three of us like we'd betrayed him somehow.

"Death's too good for him," Angel replied, really struggling now to keep me at arm's length. "Besides, I'm not convinced he _did_ lift the curse on the Energizer Bunny over here."

"Hey!" I cried, slackening my efforts to get at him. "I'm not some bloody advertising mascot, Angelus! Just kill him already at let's be done with it."

Angel shoved me, his eyes going angry. "No! It's my ass on the line here, Spike. We're keeping him prisoner until we know for sure."

"You bet it's your ass on the line, Peaches," I growled, inflamed by the thought and trying to get at him again. And then, do you know what the bloody prat did? He went and punched me out! So much for not having a headache, yeah?

* * *

While I waited outside for the boys to do their thing, interrogating the demon, I let Illyria study the woman, Claire. She looked the woman over this way and that, letting me make soothing comments when the woman got too agitated. Then, after I sat Claire down at the bus stop on the corner, Illyria told me, "She is under the effect of a memory spell, which is only half complete."

"He was trying to make her forget?" I asked my demon, keeping my voice and lip movements as subtle as possible when two men walked past us on the sidewalk. At Illyria's nod, I asked, "Forget what?"

"What happened to her down in that chamber."

Shuddering at what my imagination came up with, I watched Claire for a few seconds. So bewildered by everything out here, she seemed more like a child than a grown adult. Confused and compliant. Yuck.

"How do we fix it?" I asked Illyria, getting a weird look from a lady walking her dog. I was getting used to the weird looks.

"I can either absolve the spell," Illyria replied, "wash it away. Or, I can complete it."

It only took me a second to decide, "Complete it. It's better when you don't remember the pain."

"You speak of the pompous over-reaching one, don't you?"

"Who?"

"I believe," Illyria spat, "you named her Jasmine. Arrogant being. Thought she could conquer my domain while I slept!"

"Oh," I sighed, somewhat amused by how upset Illyria was about the Power that Used to Be. "No, I was thinking about what Cordelia became. About how they took her from us and made her into something else. And about how Connor got taken and Wesley almost died and everything fell apart. It's better when you don't remember things like that."

"As you wish," Illyria nodded, taking over again and sitting next to Claire. The demon took the woman's hands in ours and stared into her eyes. I couldn't feel anything happening and then suddenly, Claire blinked, finally seeing our face with some sense of self-awareness.

"What happened?" she asked us, and Illyria let me respond.

"You passed out in the salon, sweetie," I told her, patting her hand in mine. "I was about to call an ambulance, I was so worried!"

"Do I know you?" Claire blinked again, taking her hands away and glaring at me in suspicion-laced confusion.

"Oh! No," I told her. "I'm just visiting town. Thought I'd get my hair done, since I'm on vacation and all."

"Where's Josh? Is he okay?"

"Seems he took a bit of a tumble, too," I told her. "But don't worry, my friends are seeing after him. I guess there were some fumes from an expired hair care product? It's fine now." Sometimes I hate how easily these stories roll off my tongue. But, in my line of work, you get good at explaining away the supernatural and making it believable.

"Oh, okay."

"Can you get home alright? Should I call someone?"

"No," Claire shook her head. "There's no one. I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?" I asked as we both stood up, the woman clutching her purse tightly to her shoulder.

"Yeah," she replied, putting on a tougher face, which I had the suspicion she wore most of the time to keep everyone at bay. "I'll be fine. Thanks." And with that, she walked away.

After I watched Claire for a few moments, I turned around and went back inside, looking for my friends. I explored my way toward the back room just in time to see Angel punch Spike in the face, knocking him out cold.

"What's going on?" I asked, frightened and ready to fight Angel if I needed to. I knew Illyria's spells made me much stronger and faster, but I found myself wishing I had a cross or a stake in my hand, just in case.

Beside me, though, Xander looked amused rather than frightened. He leaned toward me and murmured, "Just a lover's spat. Nothing to really worry about."

Angel looked up at us, frowning at the words he obviously heard, before crouching down over Spike to rearrange him more comfortably. Behind them, propped up against the wall, sat the demon Illyria and I had uncovered. Smiling at the altercation, he looked up and met my eyes, losing that grin to a frown. He must still have been angry with us for finding him. Serves him right, though. Doing such unspeakable things to all those women.

"What happened to the girl?" Xander asked me, startling my gaze away from the demon.

"I sent her home," I told him, continuing at Angel's concerned look. "Don't worry. She doesn't remember anything. I told her some bad fumes knocked her out."

"Great," the vampire replied with a nod, standing and joining us near the doorway. "We have to take the incubus back with us, at least until we can sort everything with out with Spike." He frowned back at his boyfriend, who was still unconscious, blood trickling a little from a cut just above one eyebrow.

"I told you," the demon shouted at Angel, "he's not cursed anymore. He's just crazy."

"Don't," Angel growled, pointing a finger at him in warning before turning back to me. "We're having a talk."

"Right now?" I asked as he grabbed me by the arm and hauled me through the doorway.

"Right now," Angel nodded, before telling Xander, "Keep an eye on them."

"But!" the man called after us. "What if he tries to use his mojo on me? Seduce me or something?"

"Then it's a good thing you can't die by pregnancy," Angel replied with a huff, leaving them all behind as we got back into the main room of the salon.

"Let go!" I complained, wrenching my arm out of Angel's grasp. He released me, holding his hands up in a truce and stepping back. "What is this talk about?"

"What is it …?" Angel cried. "It's about how you let Illyria drag you off _by yourself_, doing spells that have God-knows-what consequences! I want to trust you, Fred, I really do. But if you can't get her to play along…"

"I didn't let her do anything, Angel," I replied coldly, crossing my arms against the verbal attack. "It was _my_ idea to do the spells and it was _my_ idea to go after this guy alone."

"Why?" he cried, brows high and crinkled together. "Why couldn't you wait for us?"

"Because," I huffed, trying to turn my back on him and just about striking out when he grabbed my shoulder to stop me. "Because I couldn't let him kill another woman! I couldn't just stand by waiting while you and Spike pulled yourselves together. I couldn't!"

"Why didn't you at least bring Xander with you?" he demanded, letting go of me again.

"I wanted to prove…" I blurted out, before I knew what I was going to say. Crap, this conversation was not going the way I wanted it to. I couldn't say the awful things in my heart, especially not to Angel.

"Prove what? How much power you have now that Illyria's with you? How superior you are now? How little you need the rest of us?"

"No!" I cried, blurring time and trying to get away from him. But Angel was too fast. If I really was Illyria, if her demon essence had succeeded in taking over my body, I would have beaten him to the door. But I wasn't really her. I was Fred, with a hitchhiking personality problem. Angel blocked my path, pulling me away from the few rays of sunlight peering through the windows and the glass door, and further into the room. Giving up the lost cause, I looked Angel in the eye and said, "I wanted to prove that I was still someone Cordelia could be proud of. I wanted to prove that I'm still the person that Wesley and Gunn would want to be with. I wanted to prove I'm not _her_."

Angel's eyes softened at the tears welling up in mine, threatening to flow over and down my cheeks until I tilted my head back and blinked to catch them. Silently, Angel approached me gently, wrapping his arms around me in comfort, rather than anger. "Fred," he whispered. "You're still that person. And you're not Illyria. You're _not_."

"How do you know that?" I asked, mumbling into the lapel of his jacket as he held me closer. "How do you know that the lines between the two of us aren't slipping?"

"I know because I see you, Fred," Angel replied, pulling back so his hands were on my shoulders and he could meet my eyes. "I see you every day and I know how hard you work to keep Illyria in line. I'm proud of you for that, and I'm sure wherever the others are, they'd be proud of you too."

"You're…?" I asked, meeting his eyes as Angel nodded.

"Very proud of you, Fred. I'm glad you're still with us."

"You don't wish," I asked, "it was Wes who survived? Or Gunn?"

"Pft," he scoffed. "I never really liked those guys."

It took me a second to realize that Angel was joking, and when I did, a sharp giggle bubbled up from my belly, escaping my mouth. Angel smiled in relief and said, "You can't beat yourself up for surviving, Fred. You just have to live with it."

"Yeah," I nodded, stepping further away from him. "Yeah, you're right."

Angel watched me for a long moment before sighing and asking, "Can we go home now?"

"Sure," I agreed, leading the way toward the back room. "But do we have to take the incubus to Slayer Central? All those teenage girls…"

"Christ," Angel muttered, shaking his head. "We'll figure it out somehow. Xander?" he asked the man as soon as he was visible.

"What?" he jumped, turning so he could see us. "Nothing happened!"

"Good," Angel replied slowly. It didn't look like anyone had moved, but the room certainly was tense. At least we knew Spike wasn't the cause, since he was still unconscious. Eventually, Angel asked Xander, "Bring the car around back? Into the alley behind the shop?"

"Sure," the man squeaked, fishing Angel's car keys from his pocket and turning quickly to leave. I watched him go, wondering how he had managed to keep going in this fight after everything that had happened to him. And to keep doing most of it with a smile and a joke. It made me hopeful, to say the least.

* * *

Fred, Xander and I managed to get Josh and Spike back to the bed and breakfast without incident, though I got a little singed trying to get back inside. "Be ready to go in fifteen minutes," I told the humans, leaving the incubus in their care and marching Spike toward our room.

He was still a little disoriented, but he called out before we left, "An hour, mates. Be ready in an hour!"

"Knock it off," I told him, shoving Spike through the door and into our room. "We've got to pack. We don't have time right now, hon. No matter how frust–"

"Look," he cut me off, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the table and slipping it into his jacket pocket. "I'm packed. Now give us a kiss."

"But," I tried to complain, but Spike did that head-tilt thing that never fails to get to me. "The others?"

"Can fuck off," he whispered, grabbing one of my hands and drawing me towards him. Spike put my hand at the small of his back, inviting me to pull him closer, which I couldn't resist. "Ange? Just indulge me for a bit?"

It wasn't fair of me, I knew, to hold back from him. Not when he was still fucked up from that curse the incubus saddled us with. Not when I could feel and smell how much he needed something, anything. So I let myself sigh once before meeting his lips with mine. If I'd had my way, the kiss would have been soft, pleasant.

I didn't have my way. I had a sexually pent-up vampire in my arms, who gnawed at my lips, pushed me towards the bed, and scrambled at my belt with his fingers. Then, I was flat on my back on the bed and Spike's fingernails scratched my hips and legs in his haste to get my pants around my ankles.

"Wait," I cried. "Can't you just give me a second to take off my shoes?"

"Bloody hell," Spike murmured, pulling my shoes from my feet and tossing them over his shoulder, breaking one of the lamps behind him. I tried to yell at him for it, but suddenly Spike had my pants all the way off and my dick in his mouth. Nothing I said after that made any sense.

Spike managed to suck me off – _me_ – in just under five minutes, reducing me to a quivering heap that used to be known as Angel. And then, more clothes were shed and he was naked on top of me, pressing kisses into my mouth and neck, whispering, "Angel. Angel! Angel," like a fucking mantra.

"Not yet indulged?" I asked, flipping us over and grabbing Spike's arms, pinning his wrists together over his head after a brief struggle.

Chuckling, he replied, "Not hardly."

Looking down at my partner, I smiled at him, suddenly struck with emotion. How could I not be when he wanted me so _badly_? "Tell me, precious," I whispered against his lips, watching his eyelids flutter closed, "what do you need?"

"Ngh," he grunted, growling. "Need to fuck, need to bite. Help a bloke out?"

Wordlessly, I turned my head, giving him access to my neck and hissing when his teeth broke the skin. I don't think I'd ever get over how good it felt to have him in me like this, clinging to me for life itself. And then he started sucking and, "Fuck!"

It took all my strength to avoid ripping my neck away from his mouth, tearing the skin and muscle so I could sink my teeth into Spike in turn. Finally, when he let go, I didn't even wait for him to stop the bleeding with his tongue. Instead, I grabbed his hair, turning his head and biting down deeply. As Spike crooned, "Oh, yeah," his cool, dark blood invaded my mouth, so different from feeding on a living person. And in his case, so much better because of the way his soul mixed with his demon, lacing his blood with that enticing flavor that was purely him, purely sex and death and life all rolled into one.

"Please, Angel," my partner whimpered, pushing and pulling at me simultaneously, grinding up against my hips and belly. "Please."

Releasing my teeth and rolling us over again, I whispered, "Anything, Will. Anything you want." Panting at the way his hands brushed over my body, I told him. "Love you."

Straddling my hips, Spike smiled down at me, smashing our blood-smeared lips and tongues together before he replied, "Love you too, ponce," his lips tickling mine as he spoke.

* * *

While the vampires were doing things– ... I'd really rather not imagine, so let's just call it _croquet_. While the vampires were playing croquet, Fred took the incubus to her room while I went to mine. It took me all of five minutes to pack before I hefted my bag onto my shoulder and went over to knock on Fred's door.

When she answered, she was frowning, and I couldn't tell if it was her normal Illyria-expression or if it was an unhappy-Fred expression. Just to be sure, I asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she shrugged and I knew it was Fred because Lyrie is never that informal. "Come in and keep an eye on him for me while I finish packing?"

"Sure," I nodded with a half-smile, following her into the room. She had the incubus sitting on the bed, his hands still bound behind him and his cloven feet shackled together so there was no way he could run. Leaning near the door to the bathroom, where Fred was packing up all her girly bathroom things, I asked, "Did you call Stephanie?"

"Uh-huh," Fred replied. "The plane's landing at Manchester Airport in two hours. We're lucky it was headed back to Scotland today anyways. Steph said they're flying another squad out to Tokyo tomorrow."

"Yeah," I agreed, suddenly reminded that Renee wouldn't be there when I got back to Scotland. It was an odd realization. The entire time I'd known her, it had been in Scotland. The first time I met her, it was when Faith brought her to the castle, all freshly-slayerized and bewildered. I watched her grow more confident and become part of the team. I watched her work her way up the ranks quickly, becoming one of Buffy's most useful allies. All in Scotland. All in the castle I called home, but which no longer had Renee. I was convinced it wouldn't feel right again.

"Get over it, Harris," I told myself, a little too loudly, because Fred looked up at me.

"What did you say?" she asked, zipping up a small bag and passing me out into the main room, stowing that bag in a larger bag.

"Nothing," I insisted.

Fred caught my eye for a moment and then laughed, "I thought I was the one who was supposed to talk to herself all the time."

"Hey, missy," I cried out, smiling. "You don't have a patent pending on 'crazy'! Besides there's plenty to go around for the both of us."

"Ugh," the incubus groaned from the other side of the room. "Please just kill me now. I don't need to be subjected to hours and hours of this."

"What's that, Grumpy?" I asked him. "You don't want us to come visit you down in the dungeons? Keep you updated on all the late-breaking gossip around the castle, whilst showing off our rapier-fine wit?"

Shaking his head and turning away from us, the demon groaned pitifully, hunching in on himself. Served him right. Josh might insist that he didn't mean to kill those women by getting them pregnant, but that doesn't mean he wasn't responsible for their deaths. It was just a shame none of the families would really know what happened.

A few minutes later, Fred had finished packing and she turned to me, asking, "Do you think it's safe yet to go knock on their door?"

"I doubt it," I told her, sinking down into an armchair near the window. "Spike was acting pretty crazy before when Angel had to hit him."

"You're sure you took off the curse?" Fred asked the incubus huddled in the corner. When he didn't reply, she poked the back of his shoulder with one sharp finger. "Hey?"

"I did," Josh growled back, turning violently to face us. "I dispelled the curse. I've done everything you asked!"

"Says you," I told him, crossing my eyes over my chest and glaring at him.

"Whatever, Cyclops," the demon muttered, turning back in on himself. "Torture me, I don't care. Just don't let him find me."

"Does this 'him' have a name?" I asked, curious.

"Belial," Josh shivered, barking out the name like the word was poisonous and foul.

The three of us sat in silence for a few minutes, pondering the name of this 'Prince of Hell' that Josh was so afraid of. I wondered again if bringing this demon back home with us was worth the trouble. Sure, he wasn't super evil, eating babies and sacrificing virgins, but he was bad enough. He raped so many of the women here in Peddleford, getting them pregnant against their wills, making them mothers to his freaky half-demon kids.

"We'll have to send someone back here," I told Fred, "to keep an eye on all the children. We might have to bring them to Scotland eventually too."

"Why?" Josh asked me, suddenly all concerned and confrontational.

"To teach them," I replied, spelling it out for the overprotective father-type-guy, "how to be half demon and still be good people."

"Impossible," he shot back.

"Not impossible!" Fred insisted, the warbling tone of her voice showing her investment in the idea. "People can overcome their demons."

"Of course they can," I soothed her. "Of course."

* * *

When I got back to the castle, after a long car-ride and an even longer plane ride, I sent Spike ahead with Fred and Xander to go tell Buffy what was going on, while I escorted Josh down into the dungeon. Spike wanted to come with me, but I needed a minute away from everyone, just to think. Besides, since we'd gotten some time together before leaving the States, Spike wasn't so desperate for me anymore. He could handle being away from me for awhile.

The incubus tried to talk to me once or twice on the way, but a harsh, painful grip on his arm put an end to that. And then, finally, I got Josh locked up, ignoring the taunts and jeers of the other things down there, and closed the door to the dungeon, resting against it for a moment. The way Fred had went off on us was still on my mind, and it scared me. I could understand why she did what she did, but that didn't mean one talk with me was going to ease her guilt. And if anyone knew about guilt, it was me.

How long? How long until Fred got sick of fighting Illyria back? How long before the soulless, sociopathic, ex-God-King was back for good? And if I let myself hide in Spike, and maybe even in Buffy, if I let them both have what they wanted, would I miss the switch? Could Illyria masquerade as Fred, without me even knowing about it?

Then, the door next to me opened and a girl skipped out from the training room, headed for the staircase before she realized she wasn't alone. When she whipped around to face me, long black hair flying, I saw that it was Rita, one of the younger slayers. "Hey," she said cautiously, keeping one eye on me as she continued toward the stairs.

"Hi, Rita," I said, trying not to sigh too much through the words.

She stopped and looked at me for a moment, through her light-brown eyes, fixing me in place somehow before she said, "So it's true."

Oh, just my luck. There were rumors floating around the castle already. If I wasn't so dedicated to this mission, and to Spike, there's no way I would willingly stay in a place with this many adolescent girls. Spike has a saying when this sort of realization comes to a person. He calls it 'Knowing You're Love's Bitch.' It's crude, but it sure does fit.

The silence lasted for too long, so I asked her, "What's true?"

"Dawn says you're the broodiest being this side of the Hellmouth."

We stared at one another for a long moment before I startled both of us by laughing. God, it was good to be home. Despite the rampant rumor mills, it was good to be around other people who just _got it_. Who knew what I was and why I was this way and didn't want to endlessly pick it apart. Or, who were too afraid to do it when Buffy was around, in any case.

Rita joined me in laughing, brushing her hair out of her face and flashing me a bright smile. Eventually, she turned to head up the stairs, but then took a breath and turned back, like she'd remembered something. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Depends what it is," I replied, standing up straighter and feeling my smile fade.

"You and Spike?" she asked, furrowing her brow. "You, like, _live together_ live together, right?"

I nodded sharply. It's not like that was a secret around here, but I supposed it wasn't like either of us went around declaring our love in front of all the new little slayers. Though, maybe we should. I've heard rumors about what they like to pull on my boyfriend during his classes.

"Then, why did I see you with Buffy?"

Ah, that was the question, wasn't it? "I –" the words were choked off by a sigh. "It's not really anybody else's business."

"It is if you're hurting one of them and I do nothing to stop it," she declared, so sure of right and wrong. So like Buffy used to be.

"Nobody's getting hurt," I insisted, before muttering, "I hope."

"I heard that, mister," Rita scoffed, getting closer and pointing an accusatory finger in my face.

"Hey," I shot back, raising my hands defensively, "it was his idea."

"Whose?"

Rolling my eyes, I told her, "Spike's. It was his idea that we try to be with Buffy again."

"My god," she said, rolling her eyes right back at me, "this is a fucking soap opera, isn't it? Or reality TV? There's cameras all over the castle, aren't there?"

I stared at her, confused by the accusations until she laughed, letting me know it had been a joke. I guess Rita took pity on me (God, another sixteen-year-old girl taking pity on two-hundred-some-year-old me) and sat down on the staircase, patting the step next to her in invitation. "You look like you need to talk about it."

"I do, huh?"

"Yep," she insisted, casting a worried frown my way until I relented and sat next to her. "First, explain what you meant by 'again'."

"Well, uh," I started, wondering how much of this she could really handle. I mean, she was still a child. Yeah, about as much of a child as Buffy was when I first started seeing her, which was not very much. "I dated Buffy for a few years, but I was…" Sighing, I decided, "She deserved a chance to really live, so I left to give her that chance. And it was the hardest thing I've ever done. But just a few years later, she ended up with Spike."

"Your boyfriend?"

"Well, he wasn't at the time," I told her. "He was evil, and then he was good. And then he died for her."

"He became a vampire?"

"No, that happened a long time ago. He died," I told her. "And then he ended up with me, in LA."

"Does that make him twice undead?"

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, I decided, "Just as much as any of the rest of us. I suppose that's what Spike and I have in common with Buffy. We've all died twice."

Rita digested this information for a moment before asking, "So LA, huh?"

"Yeah," I nodded, looking away from the slayer. I don't know how they do it, but something about the aura of slayer (or Spike) just gets me to open up. "That's where Spike and I got together."

"And now he wants you to see Buffy, too?" Rita shook her head, "Dude, that's fucked up."

"You don't have to tell me, Rita," I answered. "I already know. But he wanted her back, and I didn't want him to leave… I can't … I suppose I want her, too. But you're right. It is fucked up."

"Can't anyone just ever…?" she started to ask, putting her hands down into her head. "Can't anyone ever find that _one_ person to stay with? Forever?"

"Forever is longer than you'd like to think," I replied, standing so I could leave and go face the music upstairs.

"Kinda short, actually, when you're a slayer," she replied, standing along with me and leading the way up the staircase. When we got to the top and were about to part ways, Rita turned back and waved, "Bye, Angel."

I almost let her go, but then I remembered the swamp of paperwork on my desk, so I called after her, "Rita?"

Turning back, mouth slack and eyebrows high in expectation, she said, "Yeah?

"How would you like a job?"

* * *

_A/N: This chapter ended up kind of long, but I really wanted to wrap up all the viewpoints. _

_So, what did you think? I'm fairly proud of Fred and Angel's conversation, so how do you guys think that scene went? Did you like it?  
_

_**Coming up next**: Episode Three - Consequence_

_When Willow trapped the Senior Partners in their home dimension, something else was released in ours, and it doesn't take kindly to being unable to get home. But how can our heroes fight another villain older than time? And will Willow be able to battle this foe without losing control? Find out in this exciting new episode of the Vampire/Slayer Archives! _

_This ensemble piece, focused on Angel, Spike, Buffy, and Willow, can now be found under the Buffy section of this site or on my profile page. I hope you go check it out!  
_


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